Letters from Cheapside
by WadeH
Summary: After Elizabeth Bennet is practically thrown out of Longbourn by her mother over her refusal of Mr. Collins, she returns to Cheapside with her Aunt and corresponds with Jane and Mary from town. (Novella Complete)
1. Middlesex

_A/N: This story is very different from my others. I consider it a writing experiment, and would appreciate feedback. I mostly disregard all my carefully crafted rules for writing (see Thoughts on Writing Fan Fiction), except for the most important one, Consult the Master, but remember the master wrote more than one book. You will see what I mean in a chapter or two. _

_This is totally experimental, and features a rather unsympathetic, pessimistic and stubborn Lizzy with the prejudice knob cranked up to 11. Throw in an unusual POV and… well, you'll see._

 _This is a Novella, complete in 30 short chapters organized as 3 books. Story line is canon until the Netherfield party decamps. Please let me know what you think._

 _Wade_

* * *

 **Cheapside**

8 January 1812  
Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Jane,

As expected, things are quiet here on the Gracechurch Street after the pandemonium of Christmas season at Longbourn. Now we are reduced to simply myself and Aunt Gardiner's four children. I must confess I do not make as much noise as I once did, and the Gardiner children are somewhat less boisterous than some of our sisters, so things are quite peaceful.

Once again, I apologize for taking your turn in town, but we both know it was necessary. My idea of having you appear to chase after Mr. Bingley was obviously bad, or at least an idea that did not sit well with your nature. Of course, our mother's rampage over my refusal of Mr. Collins makes it all a moot point anyway. I must once again apologize that you should bear the brunt of it while I hide in town, but you know it is unavoidable. The past month thoroughly tested my fortitude, and I truly believe she would have literally banished me forever in another se'nnight. I would not even be surprised if she did yet.

Has she finally settled down to fewer than four screaming fits per hour? I should dearly hope so, and I would hope that removing the fuel from the fire would be useful in allowing it to eventually die down. I must confess my guilty secret. I am very happy to be separated from her by a four-hour carriage ride, but my conscience would not allow it if I did not truly believe things would be easier in Longbourn without my presence. I hate to complain, but if I hear the terms _ill-used or starve in the hedgerows_ or _duty_ one more time, I shall not be responsible for my actions, particularly if the militia are still sniffing around with their swords. I truly was desperate to exit the house, and am resolved not to return until Mother learns to be civil, which by all accounts will be some time, if ever.

I know you disapprove dearest, but I have written to Miss Bingley, and see if I can determine what exactly happened to the Netherfield party. Miss Bingley is such that were we stuck under the same umbrella, I would not trust her to accurately report the weather a foot away, but she is the only connection we have so I will see what I can do.

Elijah has fashioned a kite that actually flies, and we have been taking it to the park with Uncle Gardiner at every opportunity. Our uncle has also given permission for me to take him out alone for more of the same. Emily is working diligently at her letters, and we have begun her simple lessons in the pianoforte. Her needlework is coming along nicely, if you look at it from a far enough distance. Peter is obsessed with Robinson Crusoe, and neither Elijah's nor my encouragements are sufficient to get him to do some actual adventuring. He is obsessed with the written page, but not the experience. Robert is of course almost ready to go to school, and he mostly ignores his cousin with the advanced age of twenty. He is a charming boy though, and it will be interesting to see the man he becomes in a few years. Uncle is planning to send him to Oxford, and he seems like he will do well.

So, as you can see, all is well here at Gracechurch Street, and I look forward to news of our family.

Yours etc&  
Elizabeth

* * *

 **Snowfall**

13 January 1812  
Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Mary,

I am so happy to have your letters to join with Jane's, and I hope you will be a diligent correspondent as I expect my stay here to be of some duration. Perhaps you and Jane might share our respective letters back and forth if the idea pleases you.

We had snowfall over the last few days which blanketed the world in white, just like a fairyland. The children and I went out to make snowmen, and a wonderful time was had by all. It reminded me so much of when we were children and succumbed to the infrequent snow in furious bout of joyfulness. Emily ended up covered from head to foot in snow and ice just like we once did. Elijah is quite the dead-eye with snowballs; or at least he fashioned himself as such until I showed him some _true_ skill. I do hope he recovers from the mortification of being bested by a mere girl before his wedding day, but since that day is at least a decade hence, I believe he has a better than even chance. I did however refrain from letting him know that you are even better at it than I am.

Unfortunately, this is London and a day or two later the pristine promise of beauty and felicity promised by all the white had turned into sooty and dirty gray and black. Perhaps it is a suitable metaphor for our past three months. I have lately noticed I do not have quite the contented nature that has been my usual for most of my life. I am not morose, just not as contented as I once was.

I find myself with too much time on my hands, which I naturally employee in the worst possible manner; thinking and brooding. There is a small park near our uncle's house where I may walk, but Uncle insists that I be attended by one of his footmen always. This means I do not have the freedom to come and go as I please. John makes himself available at my convenience, but he also has many other duties and I feel guilty about taking him away from them. He should not go to bed late just because I wish for a longer walk.

I am so happy that you have allowed Papa to convince you to read Shakespeare's works, and I am even happier that you suggested we discuss your thoughts by post. I believe it may be the most diverting thing ever. Perhaps you might convince Jane to read the same volume, although I do realize that may be harder than it sounds.

Your very happy sister,  
Elizabeth

* * *

 **Bingley**

18 February 1812  
Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Jane,

Though it will give neither you or myself pleasure, I must say this anyway. _You were right, and I was wrong_. Mr. Bingley does _not_ and _never did_ esteem you. It pains me to say it, but I must be as blunt, unambiguous and clear as possible; as removing all uncertainty must make healing your heart easier. He was just a rich man playing with the affections of a country miss, and rather than feel like you lost a most eligible suitor, you should thank the fates that you escaped a life shackled to the cretin. Although I certainly did not enjoy being driven from my own home by my own mother, I am quite happy that it is not you here in town, as it has been in every way a debacle. It was mortifying for me, and I suspect it would have been even more heartbreaking for you

As you already know, I wrote to Miss Bingley twice, before finally asking John to deliver another note personally and await a reply. She invited me to tea only after it was forced upon her. She had the nerve to claim the first two letters had been lost, even though we both know that to be preposterous. She put on a smiling face, much like a serpent, and claimed the bonds of friendship. Then I remained at our uncle's house every morning for _two weeks_ , before she returned the call. Two Weeks!

When she finally arrived, she made it exceedingly clear that she found no pleasure in the visit. She looked around our uncle's fine home as if it were a warehouse or a pigsty, even though said home shows much more of refined taste and elegance than the Bingley townhouse, which tends toward the vulgar (to tell the truth it does not _tend_ towards the vulgar, because it arrived quite some time ago). Miss Bingley's voice and manner delivered even more of the crystal-clear disapprobation we are both already familiar with. As to her sister Mrs. Hurst; Miss Bingley should acquire a parrot or a dog. They could echo every word she said at considerably less expense, and would stand some chance of accidentally adding to the conversation, or at the very least they could mark their territory with something other than pure disdain.

During the visit, Miss Bingley once again reiterated that her brother was extremely busy, etc&. She also repeated her assertion that the 'gentleman' was very much engaged with Miss Darcy. It seemed clear to me at first that she was simply trying to keep her brother separated from you, as you well know I believed when they left. Were it only for Miss Bingley's word, I would no doubt still believe that, because I do not have your basic goodness. Mr. Bingley had such the air of a man thoroughly in love that it could not be doubted by anyone with eyes in their head.

However, events subsequently have proven you correct. It now seems so obvious in retrospect, that I cannot believe I ever disagreed with you on the matter. I beat my fists on my head in mortification at my ignorance and misjudgment of the situation, and I shall never doubt your judgement nor trust mine again. If Mr. Bingley did esteem you, he would have simply come back to Hertfordshire, yet there you are and here he is.

As if that were not enough, I have more evidence of his inclinations and there can no longer be any doubt whatsoever. There is much more to tell you; so much more that will shock you.

Our uncle allowed me the use of his carriage to make my long-anticipated visit to Hatchards. That store will forever be burned in my memory as both the best and the worst of places. The shop itself was magical and I spent a full three hours perusing the shelves before selecting three volumes.

Afterwards, I went to Gunthers for one of the ices we have heard so much about. As I was leaving the carriage, I glanced over at the front of the shop, and was thoroughly dismayed, shocked and angry to see _Mr. Bingley_ enter the establishment with a _very_ young lady on his arm. I ask you; with all of London to separate us, what are the chances that I would encounter _him_ at that _particular_ time. It is incredible, and yet the tale gets even worse, as the young lady (very young) was in fact as Miss Bingley asserted.

You may wonder how I ascertained that it was Miss Darcy, but that was easily done since _her brother_ was with her. Papa may think me missish, but I truly found the experience frightening, and I will tell you why. _Mr. Darcy_ , whom you know dislikes me as much as I do him, and who stared at me with disapprobation many times in Hertfordshire, saw me at around the same time I saw him, and… I can hardly say this… but he stared at me with the most intense look of hatred I have ever been subjected to by any human. I have no idea whether he hates me in particular, our family in general, or some offense we made while he was in Hertfordshire; but his gaze frightened me to death with its intensity. I was so discomposed, I climbed back into the carriage as quickly as I could, and signaled the driver to ride on before the man had a chance to cross the lane to accost me. I have not the slightest idea what I have done to earn Mr. Darcy's disapprobation, but earn it I have. His look of intense hatred was the most frightening moment of my life. I know that is repetitious, but I cannot help it. I still find myself shaking from the experience.

As for his sister, apparently, the Darcys belong to the same school of thought as our mother. She could not possibly be any older than Lydia, yet there she was, on the arm of a man at least a decade her senior. I would have been terribly embarrassed and thoroughly mortified, if I were not so frightened out of my wits.

I relayed the incident to our uncle, as is proper, and he was prepared to march over and _discuss_ the matter with Mr. Darcy straightaway. He was quite formidable in his rage, but I eventually convinced him that since the 'gentleman' did not even speak to me, and I will not be in their part of town any more during this visit, there was nothing that could or should be done. It is not as if it is against the law to stare at someone in hatred, or abandon a woman whom you have no understanding with. It is the poorest of manners, and terribly ungentlemanly, but I have it on the best authority that applying that standard of behavior would fill our transportation ships to the brim with gentry within a se'nnight.

I am so sorry Jane if your heart was still engaged by that cretin (I apologize, but I could neither think of a ladylike term to use nor one even worse that would fit), but now that we are both certain of his true colors, I believe your recovery should be rapid, since all doubt has been removed. I am afraid there is still a dearth of eligible gentlemen in Hertfordshire, but at least you have narrowly escaped one cad.

While on the subject of our mother, has she desisted from her screeching at all the gods, old and new, about how ill-used she has been by her least favorite daughter, and how she is surely just one step closer to the hedgerows. I hope the ordeal for all of you has not been too trying, but you know as well as I do it would be ten times worse if I were there for her to scream at. I believe my stay with our aunt and uncle will be of some duration.

All my love to our sisters, and tell them I will write them if they can be troubled to write to me. That rule will certainly prevent me from having to trouble myself with Kitty or Lydia, but as you know I have already exchanged letters with Mary and I believe she will be a reliable correspondent. I find a wry sense of humor and some acute observations in her writing, so perhaps we have all been misjudging our next youngest sister all these years. Please take the trouble to know her better. I would very much like to see the two of you with a closer bond.

Your loving sister  
Elizabeth

* * *

 **Governess**

1 March 1812  
Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Jane,

I thank you for your letter. I was beside myself with either laughter or mortification (but mostly the latter) at your descriptions of our mother's latest escapades. I am quite relieved to learn that she now curses me only hourly. I understand she has not relented and invited me back to Longbourn, and I would not be inclined to accept anyway, but I am certain the reduction in noise must make your day much more pleasant. I suspect she is simply saving her venom for a later date, but that thought is uncharitable so I would ask you to disregard it.

Your call from Mr. Miller sounds somewhat promising, although since we have known him since our hair was down and he has never seemed like much of a suitor before; I caution you not to encourage him overly much. Perhaps he has grown and matured, but I fear you may be settling; and I would beg you not to do so. If you wish to meet with eligible suitors, come join me in town. I know you dislike he idea, but Aunt and Uncle extend the offer quite happily, and I do believe you could stand some time away from Longbourn.

I thank you for the reports of Charlotte's wedding. Added to Mary's letter, I almost feel like I was there. Did you ever imagine that Charlotte would wed in Meryton without me in attendance? I am certain she was quite satisfied to have you stand up with her, and whilst I am sorry I missed Charlotte's wedding, I must say I do not repine the loss of Mr. Collins' nuptials in the least. The very idea keeps me up at night sometimes. I must also state categorically that I am most happy to have escaped the debacle of Mrs. Bennet's comments on the matter, since Mary saw fit to give me a nearly verbatim version of some of the things she said. I must say I commended Mary on the wit of some of her comments, and I realize yours were nowhere near as bad as the actual words, but that is to be expected and applauded.

Since my last letter, I have decided on a course of action that you will not approve, but I am quite fixed on it and shall not be moved. Aunt Gardiner's governess, Mrs. Hews has asked for three month's leave. Her sister is apparently near to her confinement, and having a difficult time of it. Aunt Gardiner of course granted her request, and I have asked to take up the office of governess for the next three months. Aunt Gardiner will pay me the stipend Mrs. Hewes would receive, and it shall be the first money I have ever actually _earned_ through my own labor.

I know this will come as a shock to you, but I do this _not_ out of a desire to assist Aunt Gardiner, although you know I would do anything for her. I do it for the experience, as I am not at present very sanguine about my prospects for genteel marriage. Your outlook has always been promising, and I believe all you need do is come to town for a few months and the deed would be done. Your beauty, your wit and your charm will have suitors lining up, and I have no doubt of your success. Now that you have put the perfidious Mr. Bingley behind you, it can be easily done. Perhaps you should plan to visit over the summer or later in the year during the season.

I on the other hand also rely on my beauty, wit and charm and therein lies the problem. My beauty was not even sufficient to make the last new so-called gentleman to enter the neighborhood hold his silence and the idea of a dance with me practically gave him a case of the vapors. My wit and charm are as you well know not to the taste of most gentlemen. Add my well-earned reputation as a bluestocking, and I am quite the odd duck. If you then include my current thorough disenchantment with the male sex in general, and our tiny portions that will no doubt be entirely consumed by our mother if none of us marry well; it becomes obvious that I may need to prepare myself for employment. Should any of us marry well perhaps it will be unnecessary, but I feel the need to be prepared; as I have not the slightest intention of living with Mother when Father passes, or based on the previous several months, I probably will not want to live with her ever again.

With that in mind, Aunt Gardiner has graciously agreed to allow me to take up the office of Governess, and she will do her best with her admittedly busy days to teach me what I need to know in a professional capacity; but she will afford me no special treatment. I will be the governess, exactly as I would in another house. With four sisters, and having taken care of my nieces and nephews many times I doubt it will be all that difficult. Aunt Gardiner is the most sensible woman I know, and she has assured me that I must learn more to be effective at the trade.

So, the next time you meet another Caroline Bingley, you will be able to boast of yet one more relation in trade. I am certain she will be proud to know you.

Your devoted sister  
Elizabeth

* * *

 **Museum**

5 March 1812  
Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Jane,

I am slightly distressed, but hardly surprised to learn that Mr. Miller is as he always was. I imagine our desire for him to have matured with age and schooling were optimistic. I am happy that he never touched your heart, although to be truthful I had a very difficult time believing he ever would. Charlotte always says it makes no difference if you know someone seven hours or seven years; but I think when you have known someone man and boy since childhood, there are unlikely to be any pleasant surprises. Perhaps I am well prepared for spinsterhood, as at the moment I find myself expecting the worst from any man; with the exception of our uncle who has shown himself to be all that a man ought to be. With the benefit of distance and time, I have even come to think poorly of our father. He has had many years to deal with his lack of a son and take steps to insure his daughters are well placed, but I find that his books and his privacy seem more important to him. It pains me to say this, but I do not depend on him for anything whatsoever; even something as simple as good advice. For that I am entirely dependent on our aunt and uncle. As for the other so-called _gentlemen_ of our mutual acquaintance, the less thought or said about them the better. I realize this shows a more pessimistic view of the world than I have customarily possessed, but it is how I feel now. I am hoping it will not become a lifelong habit.

I have some more distressing news, although it was not as shocking this time as last. I am fully embracing my position, even though we all know it is not the same as _actually_ being employed; but I now save my pin money and I only spend what I have earned as Aunt's governess. I also habitually wear a governess's dress, and have put all my own clothes away in trunks for the duration.

With that in mind, I have saved enough for an outing to the museum, so thither I went on Sunday afternoon, wearing my new tradeswoman's dress. The displays were most fascinating, and I can barely restrain myself from describing them in detail, but since I know you are not very interested, I shall spare you. I also found my interaction with the other people in the museum as a tradeswoman to be considerably different than it was as a lady. It is difficult to describe, but I found the experience more comfortable by myself in that dress, then I would with a well‑dressed gentleman on my arm. Of course, the chances of a gentleman on my arm are lower than that of being struck by lightning, so it is a bit of a moot point.

I had just finished with my tour, and decided to take a hack back to Gracechurch Street. My uncle strongly opposed the entire scheme, but I simply employed the time-tested Bennet female tactics, and wore with him down with endless repetition until he acquiesced. In the end, he allowed as the possibility of ending up as a governess was not the least likely outcome in the world (I believe he muttered something under his breath about my digging my own grave, but could not be certain), and in the end, he relented.

I was just about to step into the next hack in the queue, when around forty paces away, you will never guess in a dozen years of trying who I saw. Well, with that buildup I imagine you have figured out for yourself that it was the infamous Mr. Darcy; but without his sister or Mr. Bingley.

I thought to get in the cab before he saw me, but he did glance my way and appeared quite startled at my presence. I swear Jane, he looked at me with the same intense expression of disgust he gave me last time. It has not abated in the least. I say my courage always rises to any attempt to intimidate me, and this time I did _not_ quake in fear and run away like a rabbit from a hound. You would be most proud of me. Not a rabbit at all. Naturally, I got into the cab as quickly as possible tripping over my unfamiliar skirts in the process, and left immediately without sparing him another glance; but I did _not_ quake in fear. I simply found it would be convenient to be elsewhere. That was all. It did _not_ take me hours to get to sleep after the experience.

Now that you have my news, let us discuss yours. I have heard from Charlotte that she would like some company to share the rapturous glories of Rosings and the Wondrous Condescension of the Great and Noble Lady Catherine de Bourgh. You of course can readily determine that I took employment as a governess for three months just to avoid such a request, so I am afraid that duty falls to _you_. I thought of asking Mary, but she very cleverly declined in advance in her last missive, which really puts Mary well on the way to a reputation as the most sensible of the Bennet sisters. I quite admire her for it.

In all due seriousness, I do know it will be a miserable chore, but Charlotte is our oldest and dearest friend; living in that parsonage with _our cousin_. I now fully understand _why_ she did it, and I can even appreciate, understand and possibly even agree with her choice… from a distance. It pains me to say it, but her choices at this point of her life were even worse than ours. She is seven and twenty, and saw a chance for home and hearth, and she grasped it with both hands. In the end, I must grudgingly admit that I admire her. I will write a letter explaining my feelings once I work up the nerve.

Regardless of my sentiments though, I cannot stomach the idea of spending weeks with our cousin. You have the patience of a saint, so I am quite certain you are much better suited to the office. Forgive me if you find me a coward hiding behind my governess's duties like a child in a cupboard, but I am afraid I cannot go.

So, my dear Jane, I will expect a full report on the chimneys and fireplaces at Rosings. I expect you to check our cousin's work to insure he did not miscount or exaggerate.

Your Employed Sister  
Elizabeth

* * *

 **Rosings**

3 April 1812  
Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Jane,

What a fascinating letter, and I am all agog at your fortune. To have dined at Rosings itself would be quite enough to satisfy anyone for a lifetime's entertainments, although as father says, perhaps _a little goes a long way._ Your descriptions of the inhabitants leave me insatiably curious.

For example, was Lady Catherine _really_ as shocked as you say to learn all our sisters are out, or have you embellished for entertainment value? Or that we had five daughters without a governess? Does she have no idea of how society works in small market towns? You told me yourself Hunsford is like Meryton, and she _advises_ everyone in the village how to live in the minutest detail, so can she expect the youngest to wait until the eldest are married? I would not even be out under that regime, and I must say attaining my majority still in pigtails would not suit at all. I hate to say it, but is Lady Catherine mad, or just an old busybody? Frankly, she sounds like she would enjoy our mother's company, since they appear to be two peas in a pod. Although come to think of it, after seeing Kitty and Lydia's behavior at that last infamous ball, perhaps a governess might not have been a such a bad idea after all. Who would have thought Lady Catherine could be so wise?

Your description of Miss de Bourgh must be the most uncharitable words you have ever written Miss Jane Bennet, and I am shocked. I do agree that a pale sickly creature seems an appropriate wife for Mr. Darcy; but did you _really_ write that she has little conversation and no talent? Are you to be so hard on one of our own sex? Have you surreptitiously replaced Jane Bennet with a meaner sister? Actually, that question answers itself since I am still here. If you are to adopt your sister's ways, I really would recommend Mary over myself. It does my heart good to know Mr. Darcy is betrothed to such a creature, but I imagine they will be able to content themselves with the immense size of their combined estate. There, you can see that you are in no way qualified to take the mantle of the most unpleasant Bennet sister, so you must return to your normal serene countenance. I insist.

I must say that your description of the park does leave me with pangs of jealousy. I have explored every park within walking distance of Uncle Gardiner's house, and I am quite fatigued with them. You simply add insult to injury with your assertion that you do not care for walking the lanes any more than you did in Hertfordshire. For shame, I almost wish I was there. The only way I can still my heart from its pangs of jealousy is to picture the face of our cousin, and as our mother always says, _'that should do the trick'._

Your Jealous Sister  
Elizabeth

* * *

 **Fitzwilliam**

1 April 1812  
Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Jane,

What a fascinating world you portray. I hate to sound like our mother, but ' _A full colonel! A Red Coat! Son of an Earl! Oh, I will go distracted!_ '

Was that close enough? I must ask because as you well know our mother is an unreliable correspondent at best, and given that I was driven out of Longbourn practically at sword-point, I have not had a single line from her; a fact for which I am eternally grateful. Since Mary has reported in her own quiet way that she still remonstrates against me several times daily to any who will listen, I do not rue the lack of correspondence. I am however worried that her comments seem to be getting more vicious, and tending more towards the vulgar as time goes on, rather than receding as you would expect. Mary actually refused to repeat something she said in Lady Lucas' company, so shocking it was. But I digress, and this letter is not about our mother, but about you.

I must say I am quite relieved for your sake that your colonel's cousin Mr. Darcy did not make his usual Easter trip to Rosings. If I had any idea the place was such a snake-pit of intrigue, I would never have suggested you attend. Charlotte is quite safe, but I imagine any Bennet would be tarred with the same brush I got in London, and I am happy to find you will not have to put up with the insufferable man with no safe place to run. I still occasionally have trouble going to sleep, knowing full well that a man of his consequence could find me easily if he meant me real harm. He has thus far been content to stare daggers at me; which is quite bad enough, I assure you.

I had further word from Mary, and I am _most_ concerned about something and I must depend on you and Mary to set it aright when you return to Longbourn. I am to understand Mary King's uncle has taken her away from Meryton, and Lieutenant Wickham is back to calling on Longbourn. I have written to Father, but I doubt he would listen to me if I planted myself in his book room for a fortnight and built a fire, let alone if I wrote to him. I am concerned about the handsome Lieutenant's effect on our younger and sillier sisters. Lydia and Kitty are just flighty enough to do something ridiculous with that man or one of the other officers, and you know their mother will only encourage it. You and I both know that marriage to a penniless lieutenant would in no way be suitable.

I have been thinking on Mr. Wickham and something puzzles me greatly. I do believe his living was denied by Mr. Darcy. That part of the story rings true and accords with what I know of Mr. Darcy based on the actions we could see with our own eyes, and the gentleman admitted to a resentful and implacable temper himself. However, I am most curious about _what_ the gentleman has been _doing_ these last several years. I would think he is near in age to Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley or your Colonel Fitzwilliam, and yet he is the lowliest Lieutenant in the King's militia. He may as well be a common foot soldier. Granted your colonel is the son of an Earl, but should not a man of his years have established a profession by now? If he were meant for the church, and his living was denied, why has he not procured another living, or even completed seminary? I must say I trusted the man implicitly while in his company, and I rationalized his nearly instant abandonment of any cordial feelings for myself when Mary King acquired her fortune; but his rapid return to Longbourn does not speak well of a solid and dependable man. It speaks more of a fortune hunter. Please urge Papa to caution in that regard.

Now back to your Colonel Fitzwilliam! I can hear you protesting that he's not _your colonel_ , but your descriptions of him make him sound like a more intelligent and worldly version of Mr. Bingley, so do not give up if you truly esteem him. Guard your heart lest he become another unworthy, but I do believe Charlotte had a point. If we give the gentlemen no encouragement at all, as is expected of us by our upside-down society, perhaps not all men will have the courage to carry forward. If you like him, show him without being overt. If he esteems you, perhaps he will overlook our meager portions. You are welcome to mine if it would help. Perhaps he has entirely enough income from his profession or his family to be comfortable. I have no idea how these things work, so that is as good a theory as any.

Of course, if you do not esteem him, then be polite for another fortnight and you will be done with him forever.

Your Anxiously Awaiting Sister  
Elizabeth

* * *

 **Betrayal**

11 April 1812  
Gracechurch Street

My Dearest Most Beloved Jane,

I am frustrated beyond measure that you will not be able to read this letter, but I have become accustomed to working out my frustrations with the pen, so a letter it is; even though you will be here in a few hours and I will simply hand it to you in person, or I could just say the words. I must apologize for the sorry state of the page, for my tears are doing considerable damage.

 ** _How could he_** _? How could a man pretend to be a gentleman, yet say such a horrid thing?_ How can a man boast to someone he barely knows of how vicious his friends are, as if such would give you pleasure? Perhaps he confused you with Miss Bingley, as I am most certain she would have enjoyed the tale immensely; although since she was no doubt a principle in the thing, she would not need to be told.

I must congratulate you on the forbearance you showed in leaving the hateful man, and retiring to your room. You need not chastise yourself over your refusal to go to Rosings for tea, nor to come downstairs to talk to him when the insufferable man came to call without a chaperone, nor for refusing to take your leave of him when he came to call later. You in fact showed an admirable level of restraint, and it shows just how much your character is to be esteemed.

In my fondest wishes, I wonder what I would have done, were I talking to the scoundrel, and he bragged about how his cousin Darcy saved Bingley from an _imprudent match_. In my dreams, I would either give him a verbal setdown that would have him begging for his mother, or I might take his walking stick and beat him half to death. In practice thought, I believe my hated manners and even more despised timidity would have prevented both. I would have done just as you did, leave as quickly as possible, beg off visiting Rosings and spend the evening crying. Hateful Man! _Hateful, Hateful Insufferable Man!_

I now find myself in a quandary. I cannot think of which of the three 'gentlemen' I think most ill of.

Mr. Bingley is obviously either a rake just playing around with a country girl's affections, or he is such a weak-willed soul that he blows around as the wind carries him; and it apparently does not take all that strong of a wind. Should you have shackled yourself to him, would he have been resolute and dependable, or would you have had his sister constantly underfoot, sneering at you, looking down at how you keep your home, criticizing how you raise your children. She would be little better than Lady Catherine. What if you encountered some difficulties? Could you expect him to give your children the discipline necessary to grow up something better than our younger and sillier sisters, or worse yet, the Bingley sisters? You know as well as I do that you and I are only marginally tolerable because of the influence of our aunt and uncle. Would he abandon you if you were ill, or…? I will not go any farther. We must consider that you have narrowly escaped a man less worthy than our cousin Collins, rather than having a real lover snatched away from you. Yes, Mr. Bingley has certainly earned our disapproval.

What about the colonel himself? I am ashamed that a few days ago, I was encouraging your affections. What can a man say when he is proud of the fact that his cousin can lead a lamb to the slaughter. How much effort could it have taken, but I must say to take _pride_ in that requires a certain kind of man that I wish to never have the displeasure to meet.

Most of my rage though is reserved for the worst of the lot, although I know not whether that is a rational assessment; or if I hate him so much just because he hates me. I am left with the most vicious quandary. What could I or we possibly have done to offend Mr. Darcy to such an extent that he not only quit the county, but dragged his friend away with him? All this time since I happened upon him those months ago, and received such a look of derision, I have wondered if I would ever have the courage to just ask him given the opportunity. In the end, though my courage has usually risen to overcome any obstacles; I do not believe that I would. He is without a doubt the worst man I know, and to the best of my ability I shall never speak another word to him. I only wish that I could never have another thought of him as well, but at the very least I have come to a level of understanding and agreement with the man. I now hate him as much as he hates me.

I hear the carriage outside and can only hope that it is you arriving, so I must close and go down to offer what consolation and affection a sister can provide.

Your Anxiously Awaiting Sister  
Elizabeth

* * *

 **Holiday**

10 May 1812  
Gracechurch Street

Dearest Jane,

I am happy that to hear your report that Papa is now moderately satisfied with the level of sense being spoken at Longbourn. I know he would prefer even more, but I think he must be satisfied with what he gets from you and Mary. Speaking of Mary, she continues her correspondence and seems to have replaced me as a constant companion to the book room, to everybody's satisfaction. I have been resisting my father's desultory entreaties to return, and intend to continue with that course. With our mother still at odds over Mr. Collins, Mary's _much more_ pessimistic reports of her behavior than yours, and my majority coming up in less than a month, I believe I shall remain here as long as I am welcome.

Mrs. Hewes returns on Tuesday, as her sister has been delivered of a fine stout and healthy baby boy. I am to understand mother and child are doing quite well.

I have yet to decide whether I will tell Papa or not, but I have taken a position with one of our uncle's business associates until the summer. Mr. Ellery has graciously offered me employment in his warehouse. I am to labor as a clerk, working on some of the ledgers, which he claims are the lifeblood of any business. If I do well before the summer, he may offer me a better position. The man is quite a radical, practically a heretic, as he pays women and men the same amount for the same work. All my hours studying with Papa appear as if they may be of some use. I can hear the protests when and if it becomes known in Longbourn, but I am not to be moved. Perhaps this step is unnecessary, and it is likely to diminish my own matrimonial prospects, poor as they may be; but I do _not_ believe it will affect the rest of you; and I cannot but think that I need to prepare myself for a different life than we had imagined. The life we were seemingly born to is no longer a certainty or even a high probability, considering our history with the opposite sex.

I beg of you to neither tell anyone else in the family save Mary who already knows what I am about; nor offer me any censure. I am doing what I must to secure a future for myself, and to be prepared should I need to assist any of my sisters.

With that bit of news, I have yet more to relate. As you know we were planning to visit the Lakes District. Uncle's business has forced us to both delay and curtail the scheme; and to change the destination. I do not mind the delay as it will give me more time to settle into my new employment and see how well it suits me, and the break will be an opportune time to learn some more about business from our uncle. I am not even unhappy about having the six-week trip reduced to a month, as I am not so very much built for idleness any more. I am certain I will be ready for much idleness after being employed for months or years, but now I can hardly wait to start each day. The distressing news though is that we now do not have time to visit the Lakes District. Instead, we are to tour Derbyshire. As you know, Aunt Gardiner has been corresponding with friends from her original home in Lambton, and she wishes to visit them.

At first I was worried that I was going to the home county of a certain hated gentleman, but then I decided to be just a little bit sensible. Derbyshire is immense, and I should think I can manage to take a few spars away without being noticed. The chances of encountering the man are minuscule, and I will have Uncle with me in case of need. Therefore, I fully intend to embrace our holiday and make the most of it.

Yours etc&  
Elizabeth


	2. Derbyshire

**Matlock**

1 July 1812  
Matlock, Derbyshire

Dearest Mary and Jane,

I hope you do not mind, but I will combine your letters together for the rest of the holiday, since you are clearly sharing everything anyway, much to my great pleasure, and it will save us considerable coin on postage.

As I have already well described _Oxford, Blenheim, Warwick, Kenilworth and Birmingham_ in my previous letters I shall dwell on them no more. Now I have the most alarming part of the story to tell, and you shall be truly shocked. I am as well, although truth be told, I am more embarrassed than anything.

Yesterday we were to tour our last grand house before going to visit Aunt's relations in Lambton, the great estate of _Matlock_. As with all the great houses I did not want any chance of embarrassing our relatives by looking like penniless beggars, so I have been wearing my best dresses and paying special attention to my appearance. In this particular case, by chance I was wearing the day dress I was wearing that day I walked to Netherfield when you were sick, all those months past, although I've done quite a bit of refreshing on it since then. Does that not seem like another lifetime?

The estate was absolutely glorious. In our tour, we have seen everything from the ostentatious yet hideously vulgar to the refined and elegant. Matlock was the best example I have yet seen of pure refinement. Everything showed a true sense of taste and beauty going back several generations at least. It sounds like the polar opposite of how you describe Rosings, Jane. I must admit I was quite taken with the place.

The housekeeper was an interesting and amiable woman, the sort you could sit and chat with for hours. She has served the family faithfully for many years, and sang their praises extensively. She was a bit on the impertinent side, and even hinted that one of the Earl's sons remained unmarried; as if such a man might be interested in me. I did take some comfort from her faith in my beauty, misplaced as it is. She had the look of truth about her, so perhaps this family is very unlike all the very rich that we are more familiar with. Pity we did not meet any of the Matlocks during our earlier experiences. I remembered that Jane said the Colonel at Rosings was the son of an Earl, but I can no longer remember which particular one. It is unfortunate he was not the son of the Earl of Matlock, as the housekeeper makes him sound like a real man among men.

I believe I am woolgathering, because I have yet to come to the most shocking part of the story. We were touring a gallery of paintings, mostly of long dead relatives that were not of very much interest, when I heard the most beautiful pianoforte I have ever encountered. This was an instrument that could have graced a London ballroom or even the Prince Regent's music room, and whoever was playing it would not have been embarrassed to present at a London theater. I must admit, I was thoroughly entranced.

Such as my distraction at the beauty of the music, I lost track of the housekeeper and my aunt and uncle, and went to try to get just close enough to hear well. I came upon a partially open door, and looked through to see a young lady playing the instrument with a look of concentration that was quite formidable. She could not have been very old, probably around the same age as Kitty; but there the similarities ended. This young lady was dressed very elegantly but simply, and she was entirely entranced in her music, as if being transported to another world, and she momentarily transported me to the same place. I swear, it was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.

Such was my rapture with the music that it took me several moments to notice there was a well-dressed gentleman standing next to the pianoforte, looking down on the young girl. I could only see both in profile, but something about them seemed familiar. The gentleman appeared older, so I surmised he was probably brother or uncle, rather than suitor. I felt guilty for intruding on the privacy of such a moment between family members, and turned to leave.

As I turned, the last thing I saw before I hurried away in embarrassment was the gentleman turning his head. Apparently, he had sensed my presence. Perhaps I made a noise, but the last thing I saw of him as I turned to make my hasty exit was a glance at the side of his face. I am certain he did not see my face, and for that I am eternally grateful, because I saw just enough of him to recognize his visage. Yes, my dear sisters, I am certain you have guessed his identity by now. I had been caught out spying in the private portion of the home by none other than _Mr. Darcy_. Apparently, he has some connection to the family.

I was thoroughly mortified at having been away from the tour, and invading the privacy of another's home without leave, a break in propriety more like Lydia's doing than ours. Adding the embarrassment of running into the man that hates me the most in the world, I was frightened out of my wits. I am not actually silly enough to believe Mr. Darcy will do me any real harm; but I was thoroughly overcome by the entire encounter. I thank the stars that he could not possibly have seen my face, as I hurried away from the room. At most he would have seen the back of my dress, which would tell them precisely nothing about my identity. It is not as if he would remember one lady's dress from half a year past.

I hurried from the room, and since we were close to the front door, I am ashamed to admit that I went out to the front of the house to hide in mortification. Our tour was nearly up so the carriage had already been pulled around after the horses had been seen to. I asked a kindly appearing older footmen to deliver a message to aunt and uncle that I was somewhat indisposed and then I did the most mortifying thing ever. I simply went into the carriage and hid like a frightened girl, hoping that the gentleman would not come looking for me.

Mr. Darcy did in fact come out of the house just a few moments later, apparently looking for the curious invader. I shrunk back into the corner of the carriage, and was surprised to see him look around for several minutes, before shaking his head and going back into the house. Apparently, he thought his domain was once again safe from intruders, and I simply waited for our aunt and uncle; and steadfastly refused to enlighten them on the exact nature of my indisposition.

I so hate to repeat myself, but this was the most mortifyingly embarrassing moment of my life, and I cannot imagine what I would have said to him should he have caught up with me. What could I say, after acting so indecorously; after confirming all his worst suspicions about me? It was much too embarrassing for me to remember my fright of the man until much later. I truly hope he did not recognize me, although I'm quite certain he never got a look at my face so I believe I am safe, and it seems unlikely his opinion of me could diminish anyway.

Tomorrow we go to Lambton, and all will be well. It is only a few miles from Pemberley, but I doubt I need worry about encountering Mr. Darcy in the inn or Aunt's friends' houses, so I am perfectly safe from notice.

While I have enjoyed our holiday, I am very much looking forward to being back home in Cheapside, and back to my own pursuits at the warehouse.

Yours etc&  
Elizabeth

* * *

 **Lambton**

5 July 1812  
Lambton, Derbyshire

Dearest Jane and Mary,

Another day. Another mortifying experience. At the rate things are going here in Derbyshire, I am seriously regretting coming hither instead of remaining home in Cheapside for the summer. I must own however that there is at least _some_ amusement to be had, but it will be your amusement at my expense I am afraid. You will be astounded at the ill luck of my latest escapade.

I was visiting the local bookshop which as you know is owned by a very old and dear friend of Aunt Gardiner. Aunt and Uncle were off visiting acquaintances a few miles from Lambton, and I was looking forward to a few hours of solitude to read my new purchases.

As I was returning to the inn with my latest volumes, I came around the corner of a smithy and you will not believe who I encountered! My feeling of comfort and safety in Lambton was quite overrated, as on a very narrow lane I walked headlong into none other than _Mr. Bingley_ , accompanied by both Mr. Darcy and his sister. I tried my best to pretend I had not seen them and move past, but the lane was much too narrow and I was too far from the corner. Thus, I was forced to exhibit at least the minimal civilities; much as it pained me. As I mentioned before, Mr. Darcy's estate is but five miles away, but I had felt quite confident he would not be wandering around this village.

Jane, you will chastise me for saying this, but the encounter taught me something that will be of much use to you if you yet have any of your heart engaged. _Mr. Bingley is actually a simpleton._ There you have it, and you can be happy you are not saddled to him. How do I come to this conclusion you ask? Because he greeted me as if we were old friends, exactly as if _nothing had happened_. He blathered on for a good minute or two about how delighted he was to see me, and could name the exact date of our last encounter as well as the number of months elapsed since (November the 26th and eight months as it turns out). He even asserted that he could not remember a happier time than when we were all together at Netherfield, which does not really coincide with the fact that he ran from the place as if it were infested. The whole thing was astonishing; and I hardly knew how to react. Nothing in my life, even Mr. Collins, prepared me for dealing with such intransigence.

Then he asked the most peculiar question of all! He asked if _all_ my sisters were still at Longbourn, which seemed an odd question since one of the sisters was standing in front of him, and in all these eight months he had not made the slightest effort to know anything of us at all. I assumed Mr. Darcy must have told him about our two encounters in town, so it seems clear at least one of the sisters has been away from home.

I confess I had a bit of sport of him, going through the status for Lydia, Kitty and Mary in thorough and tedious detail, followed by a minute description of Lydia's trip to Brighton, then my travels (omitting Matlock for obvious reasons). I quite deliberately blathered on for a good five minutes, and was sure to make frequent and copious references to my residence in Cheapside. Naturally, I completely neglected to mention Jane at all. Not a single word. He did not seem to have the nerve to ask directly, so I just left him wondering. Jane, if he truly wants to know your status, all he needs do is return to his own estate, or even just ride through Meryton and stop at the inn for a flagon.

I was then forced to accept an introduction to Miss Darcy, and pretend to talk cordially with Mr. Darcy and his sister for a moment or two. I don't know if I mentioned it before, but Miss Darcy is tall and pretty, but so shy it would take a mule with half a dozen ropes to drag a conversation out of her. Is this what Miss de Bourgh is like? Miss Darcy appears to be the perfect foil to Mr. Bingley, who cannot seem to shut up; and I am certain Miss Bingley will never wed so the three of them can make a merry party.

After a few minutes of this agony, I begged off, citing Aunt and Uncle awaiting me. I felt a tiny bit bad about the blatancy of the lie, but I am certain my conscience will recover. Mr. Darcy exerted himself to not stare at me with quite the level of malevolence I have become accustomed to, and even said a few words; so perhaps absence has moderated his disapprobation or softened his manners.

With that, I made my curtsies, and walked around them. Before I left though, I was feeling quite generous, so I thought I should show the lot of them that the Bennet sisters are well mannered and benevolent. As I started walking away, I observed that they were a very handsome couple, and I wished them much felicity together. They looked perplexed by the statement, so they probably did not know I was aware of their relationship; but by then I had quite enough of their company so I simply hurried away before any of them could reply.

Your snidest sister,  
Elizabeth

* * *

 **Blacksmith**

11 July 1812  
Lambton, Derbyshire

Dearest Sisters,

What an unusual day I have had. We shall begin with the surprising but not alarming part. Uncle Gardiner acquainted himself with a local tradesman by the name of Mr. Livingston. He is a very pleasant man of about the same age as our aunt and uncle, who was known to Aunt Gardiner in their youth. He is softly spoken, well mannered, obviously fashionable and very well-educated. The two of them talked long into the night, and even allowed me participation in the conversation. Even more exciting, they now propose a joint venture of sorts between the two of them and my employer, Mr. Ellery. Uncle believes it may be quite profitable, and from what he could explain to me it seems a very reasonable business.

Based on the desire for this mutual endeavor, Uncle has asked if we might stay on in Lambton for an additional fortnight. I am to resume employment with Mr. Ellery, but I will be acting as clerk for discussions between the two men, and relaying messages to Mr. Ellery. It is all very exciting, as I get to be involved in the very beginning of a new venture and I can hardly wait to begin. We are not certain if Mr. Ellery will agree to join, but if not, Uncle says he will find another and will cover my wages himself; as if I would allow him to do so.

Now we come to the alarming part. Before all this happened, I was out for my morning walk when I quite by chance ran into none other than _Mr. Darcy_ at the blacksmith ship. I imagine he must have had trouble with his horse on his morning ride, as I can think of no other reason for him to not leave the care of the animal to his grooms.

Once again, I tried to avoid the acquaintance but was unable to do so with any degree of civility, but then the oddest thing happened. I am quite beside myself to explain it. Mr. Darcy greeted me most cordially, and then spent a quarter hour engaging me in conversation! _Conversation_! _Mr. Darcy_! I know that is repetitious, but I must write it several times just so I may believe it myself. I know we argued several times while Jane was not sick at Netherfield, and of course we argued more in that atrocious dance at the Netherfield ball, but this was just plain, ordinary, civil conversation. I am all agog!

After the debacle at Matlock I was quite nervous to even encounter him, but he was very amiable and even on the chatty side. The transformation was astounding, and I quite despair of being able to explain it. The effect was something like talking to a more erudite version of Mr. Bingley.

By unspoken agreement, we did _not_ discuss anything at all about Mr. Bingley or all the various sisters (mine, Mr. Darcy's, Mr. Bingley's). We talked oddly enough of books and plays, and it was… dare I say it… surprisingly pleasant. His manners were the very best I have ever seen them, and I was reminded that he is the only man of my acquaintance that does not seem to look down on my education, such as it is. I even engaged in a bit of impertinence by professing some opinions I do not actually possess, but he took it all in stride and seemed to enjoy it.

In the beginning, I was keen to get rid of him so I mentioned quite carefully that I was there with my aunt and uncle in trade, and even went so far as to tell him where I now live, and of my own employment; being unable to think of anything that would release me from the conversation more quickly. Astoundingly, he asserts that he would like to meet my aunt and uncle, and even asked me some insightful questions about my clerk's duties. I am quite certain he was just being polite, but even this level of civility was wholly unexpected. I naturally prevaricated about the introduction, so he need not be troubled with the acquaintance. I do not believe any meeting would be to either party's benefit.

At the end of the quarter-hour we did each other adieu, and I am surprised to find he no longer seems to hold me in contempt. I have no idea what I may have done to release him from his anger, but I will accept it as just one of the oddities of life. Perhaps he has a bad memory, or maybe seeing his sister well settled has softened his edges, or mayhap it is just being in a place where he is the master of all he sees and he takes comfort in its familiarity.

All in all, it was an interesting, albeit uncomfortable experience. I would obviously prefer not to repeat the meeting, but it was surprisingly cordial.

Yours etc&  
Elizabeth

* * *

 **Business**

15 July 1812  
Lambton, Derbyshire

Dearest Mary and Jane,

I imagine you may need to become accustomed to a letter from me telling you I am surprised with the events of the day, as things are quite mad her in Lambton.

Uncle's business negotiations have gone apace, and we have been out on the carriage meeting other tradesmen nearly all day for the past three days. I have gone along and diligently recorded all the decisions and questions for post back to town, and have also done some calculations for the gentlemen which were much appreciated. My work in the ledgers has been paying off, and I must say that all the gentlemen are surprisingly delighted with me.

Now I must leave off my shameless boasting before you begin to feel I am spending entirely too much time in male company, or I am in danger of taking up trousers. Fear not, I am still a lady and I do still look reasonably fetching despite the ink stains on my fingers that I can never quite remove anymore. I have also clearly gone quite insane, boasting about my appearance, but such it is.

Today, I also believe I managed to embarrass myself again, as I was once again wearing the same day dress I wore to Matlock, which as quite unaccountably become a bit of a favorite. Unfortunately, I did not plan on encountering Mr. Darcy, but when we returned, there he was sitting in the common room of the inn. I was at first simply shocked to see him there, and when he got up to make his greeting, I am certain I turned beet red when I ascertained that he would probably recognize the dress from Matlock. In fact, I am quite certain he did for he looked the dress up and down, then gave what could only be described as a smirk; making it quite possibly the first non‑frown and non‑haughty expression I believe I have ever noticed on his countenance. Ever the gentleman, he refrained from embarrassing me further by mentioning it, but I am certain he ascertained my folly.

Even more astounding, I just reread the previous paragraph, and I have no idea why I wrote 'ever the gentleman', when such a thought would have been inconceivable a fortnight ago, but I must reluctantly own that he has been nothing but a gentleman every time I have encountered him in Derbyshire (well, apart from chasing me out of Matlock, but I believe that must be treated as an aberration or if I go completely mad and see it in a prudential light, he may have been trying to apologize for frightening me).

He specifically asked me to perform introductions to Aunt and Uncle, which I did, eager to show him that I have relations besides you two that I am not embarrassed by. He then without batting an eye joined us for tea, and chatted with both parties for a good half‑hour. Who would have thought? He does not know Aunt personally but they have several common acquaintances, and unlike Miss Bingley, he thinks nothing of associating with people in trade, and in fact discussed our new venture with what appears to be significant interest.

He very politely asked of our plans for the remainder of our stay, and then bid us adieu. Uncle and Aunt were as astounded by the performance as I was, but they both regained their equanimity quickly enough.

Tomorrow they have no business, so I am to have some time for a walk in the morning, which is much needed as I have been cooped up in carriages and doing my clerical duties these three very long days.

Lambton is a small market town nearly indistinguishable from Meryton, except the country is wilder, the hills higher, and the trails likely to be more difficult. Being in the country, Uncle has agreed to allow me to wander unaccompanied as I once did in Hertfordshire, but I will wear my tradeswoman's garb to eliminate having people stare at me. I can pass as a maid or governess in my new dresses with the greatest of ease, and I must confess, I feel more comfortable attired in that fashion these days. It affords a level of freedom from scrutiny we would have been quite unaccustomed to in Hertfordshire.

Yours etc&  
Elizabeth

* * *

 **Avoidance**

23 July 1812  
Lambton, Derbyshire

Dearest Sisters,

No! No! _No_! _No_! **_No_**! Both of your suppositions are entirely unfounded, and you may rest assured Mr. Darcy does **_not_** hold me in any particular regard. I can understand Jane paying me back for encouraging affection with the colonel at Rosings, but cannot imagine why my sweetest sister Mary has joined in! Insufferable girls!

It is funny the things I remember out of the blue. Charlotte once overheard Mr. Darcy saying, _'A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment.'_ He may have been correct in your cases. You both appear to have been in Mrs. Bennet's company too much.

Jane, I know how you like to think the very best of anyone and everyone; which is very much to your credit. The fact that you can still do so after exposure to Mr. Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam demonstrates the full depth of your goodness. However, despite your predilection to think the best of people, I am afraid I only give you leave to think of Mr. Darcy as a more pleasant man than I gave him credit for, and perhaps to believe he does not dislike me as much as I believed in the spring, or possibly he does not particularly dislike me at all.

Something has just occurred to me. I had forgotten the name of Jane's colonel from Rosings, so I went back to the old letters to reacquaint myself with the man. It appears he _is_ the son of the Earl of Matlock, so my famous pianoforte escapade was in his parents' house, and he was the man the housekeeper told me remained unmarried. Of course, with his manners at Rosings, his single state is not to be wondered at. I would be doubly-mortified about the Matlock incident all over again, but considering his shameless boasting when you were in Kent, I imagine I may just consider it payback.

So, your suppositions are entirely idle and unwarranted, and I am surprised you can even suggest it after our history. It _is_ true that Mr. Darcy now appears to be as Jane and I described Mr. Bingley that first night after the assembly. We never disputed that he was handsome and rich. He now appears to have acquired a bit of amiability, so he is in fact all a young man ought to be… when he is in his own county, among his own associates. However, you know as well as I do that even should my inclinations run that way; which they most definitely _do not ;_ such a man is not for the likes of us. I find it comforting to fully comprehend his motivations, so without any fear of attachment, I will simply enjoy his company when I encounter him, much like any other indifferent acquaintance.

And about our mother, I have come to a decision. I find myself reaching my age of majority, and eagerly entering the world of adults, so perhaps it is time I grew up. I have reluctantly thought to spend a se'nnight in Longbourn on my way back to Cheapside to _try_ my very best to repair my relationship with her. I have sent her a note proposing the scheme and await her reply. I know not whether I will be successful, but the attempt seems to be a childhood task I have left undone too long. Wish me luck.

So now that I have sufficiently tamped down your impertinence regarding Mr. Darcy, I will relay the news of the day; but I forewarn you both not to waste valuable postage on more unwarranted suppositions. Mr. Darcy was in Lambton today, and asked cordially if I would allow him to show me a few favorite paths, and I surprisingly agreed. We did in fact have a very pleasant walk of some duration, and I must say I took some pleasure in his company for the very first time.

During the walk, I believe I may have discovered the true reason for his unexpected predilection for appearing in Lambton every day. It appears that Mr. Bingley brought his _sisters_ for a visit to Pemberley, and given that fact, Mr. Darcy's daily absence from his estate makes perfect sense. Were I residing at Pemberley (you may both quite laughing now), I should leave every morning before dawn, and return each night after supper. I find myself reasonably content with his company. He is the best-read man of my acquaintance, and I suspect he may even give Papa some competition. He attends operas and plays in town frequently, so we have many things we can converse on. He does not seem to mind conversing on subjects that are usually the province of gentlemen, and seems to despise the conversation ladies are encouraged to pursue. Aunt Gardiner tells me her acquaintances generally hold him in high regard, so perhaps there is more to him than I have given him credit for.

When we returned to the inn, he quite surprised me by inviting Uncle Gardener to fish with him in his trout stream. You can well know the outcome of that request, so against all odds, it would appear that Uncle is to visit Pemberley.

Mr. Darcy also oddly enough asked permission to call on me in the morning, which I assume he finds more practical than waiting idly at the blacksmith shop just to avoid his more insufferable guests. I surprisingly enough find I am not as averse to the idea as I would expect.

Jane, I hope you do not feel I am acting disloyal after his showing in Hertfordshire, but I find myself curios to try to understand what he is all about. You need not fear an attachment, but I would at least like to no longer be afraid of him.

Yours etc&  
Elizabeth

* * *

 **Introductions**

25 July 1812  
Lambton, Derbyshire

Dearest Sisters,

Another day… another shock. Who would have thought based on Mr. Darcy's behavior in Hertfordshire that he hails from a madhouse county? He appeared at the inn this morning, but surprisingly he brought his sister to be introduced to our entire party. At first I was astonished, but I now must make a confession. I am perhaps just a bit prejudiced against the gentleman (or a lot); mayhap from that first slight at the assembly these many months past, exacerbated by my presumed reasons for his dragging the Netherfield party away, and then cast in stone by Colonel Fitzwilliam's revelations in Hunsford.

I assumed he would not wish an association with someone in trade, or more specifically, someone related to our mother; but in retrospect, it is obvious Mr. Bingley is from trade, and he is as the colonel asserted in Rosings a great friend of Mr. Darcy. He even seems to be good enough for Miss Darcy, so I therefore must conclude that I do not know the man at all. What else might I be wrong about?

Miss Darcy is as shy as I previously detailed, but with an effort I managed to engage her in a discussion of music, and she turned out to be a lovely woman after I got her talking. I obviously did not want to mention the debacle at Matlock, but told her that both her brother and some other acquaintances had praised her talent, and I would like to hear her play one day. It was a bit forward, but I would so much like to hear her again that I am quite willing to skirt propriety or suffer embarrassment for the privilege. She is apparently a vengeful girl, as she then proceeded to shock me into speechlessness, by asserting that her brother claimed a strong enjoyment of _my_ playing. Me! Elizabeth Bennet! I was speechless.

Mr. Darcy was obviously just being polite, since I could not even play in the same county as Miss Darcy, but I must confess the praise did warm my heart. While I am confessing my sins, I must own that I gave both brother and sister quite a bright smile in return; although I was then quick to correct Miss Darcy about my actual skill, lest she harbor unrealistic expectations.

Our visit was quite pleasant and I surprisingly find myself enjoying company with both Darcy's. I do not even mind her attachment to Mr. Bingley, as I have long believed you deserve better than a man who would quit the county without so much as a by your leave, regardless of what his sister or his friend thinks. Perhaps Mr. Darcy did Jane a service? There is a wholly unexpected thought!

The end of the visit brought one more surprise. Miss Darcy, looking for all the world like she was doing something difficult under the watchful eye of her brother, invited us to dine at Pemberley. I was surprised, but the look on her brother's face gave credit to the idea that he put her up to it. While I know of few things in life I would _less_ rather do than share some hours with the Bingley sisters, I find myself quite looking forward to it. After all the descriptions of Pemberley we have heard, I would very much like to satisfy my curiosity. The library alone should be worth a few hours with the pernicious sisters, and truth be told both sisters are so dense there is a certain amount of amusement to be had at their expense by saying things they cannot understand.

So, we are to Pemberley after all. Uncle is to gird his loins for battle with Mr. Darcy's trout stream, which he asserts is quite overrun so it may not be that much of a battle. Aunt and I are to spend the morning with the ladies and then join the gentlemen for luncheon. Mr. Darcy has a bit of the look of mischief about him, and I should not be surprised if he failed to mention the engagement to the Bingleys. Perhaps Miss Bingley will find our sudden presence so shocking that she will do something completely unexpected, such as be polite… Well, enough of my flights of fancy. It is one thing to dine at Pemberley, but the latter suggestion is obviously too farfetched for serious consideration.

Sisters, I must let you in on a shocking secret. I find I am looking forward to the excursion. There, I have said it in writing, and may not retract it now. Despise me if you will.

Yours etc&  
Elizabeth

* * *

 **Pemberley**

27 July 1812  
Lambton, Derbyshire

Dearest Sisters,

I have had the most shockingly up and down day of my life, and ended up quite distressed, but paradoxically contented that all my previous confusion has been resolved and I fully comprehend everything about our situation in all its particulars. I can think of no way to convey it except to relay the entirety of the day's events in detail, in the hope that writing it all out will help bring clarity of thought and spirit. I apologize that the letter is so long, but I do not have time before the post to make a shorter one.

True to plan, we went to Pemberley and the look on Miss Bingley's face was absolutely priceless. I believed both Darcy siblings may have a sense of humor as the Bingley sisters seemed to have no any idea we were to attend. The sisters exerted themselves to the usual level of civility, and they were shockingly forward, practically gushing over Miss Darcy. I am astounded they are not astute enough to detect that Miss Bingley's intentions are completely transparent. Miss Bingley wishes to be mistress of Pemberley, and sees Miss Darcy as her ticket. Unfortunately, they cannot see that their fawning sycophant behavior just drives Miss Darcy deeper and deeper into a protective shell like a clam, until you can hardly get a single word out of her. I am surprised Mr. Darcy allows it, but I suspected that he was simply exposing his sister to the type of behavior she can expect when she comes out into society, as the poor girl must toughen up a little if she does not want to be eaten alive by the _ton_ … at least that is the explanation that seemed to make the most sense.

Mr. Darcy seemed like either an indifferent sportsman, or an overprotective brother because he kept popping in to check on the ladies every half-hour. Since he never seemed inadequate as a sportsman in Hertfordshire, I had to conclude the latter was his motivation. Each time he appeared, he observed the room for a bit, conversed with a few assorted guests, and then returned to his sport, only to repeat the exercise a half-hour later. I cannot believe he caught a single fish. At this point of the day, I was quite prepared to give him credit for at least being a good brother; which even Mr. Wickham would acknowledge as truth.

The gentlemen returned from their sport in good time for luncheon; and the second and most vexingly confusing part of the day commenced. I was most curious to observe the relationship between Mr. Bingley and Miss Darcy, as we so far have only Miss Bingley's word on the subject. An hour of close observation confirmed that it was simply Miss Bingley's dream, as they have no more affection than any other indifferent acquaintances. I was a bit surprised they did not correct my parting statement from our first meeting, but I suppose there is really no polite way to bring up such a thing. Of course, that made me question my own judgment from January when I concluded Miss Bingley was telling the truth just because I observed them in town, he was being polite, and Mr. Darcy stared at me menacingly. I must own that even though I somewhat facetiously said back in January that I did not trust Miss Bingley, I must admit that even cynical me found it hard to believe she would outright lie straight to my face.

I really believe I must learn to examine my own bias in these matters, as I seem to be wrong about as often as not. Of course, all of that does not really change the fact that Mr. Bingley left Jane alone in Hertfordshire with hardly a backward glance, but it _did_ make me wonder at my own conduct here in Derbyshire. Why am I being amiable with the Darcys considering Colonel Fitzwilliam's disclosure in April, which seemed at least to be more reliable than anything to come from the superior sisters?

At this point in the day, I was conjecturing very charitably that perhaps Mr. Darcy knew that Mr. Bingley was an indifferent suitor and took _him_ away to protect _Jane_. If that were the case, I can think of no way he could accomplish the task and also let us know it had been done with any sense of propriety. The duty of leave-taking fell to Mr. Bingley, and he deferred it to his unreliable sister. I was quite convinced that was the right of it, and was beginning to feel considerably more warmth toward Mr. Darcy.

During conversation, just before luncheon, Mr. Bingley did try once again to hint around at the status of all my sisters, but I was in no more of a mood to indulge him than I was a few days ago, so I once again refused to answer a question he could not even work up the nerve to ask directly. I believe he left my company feeling quite frustrated; which was entirely to my satisfaction. You can see that I need not give up the mantle of the cruelest of the Bennet sisters, as I am practicing the arts continuously; and of course, I have such able instruction from the superior sisters.

After luncheon, Mr. Darcy offered to give us a tour of the house. Everyone in the party joined in the start of the tour through the principle rooms, and we saw very much what we would see if we had taken a public tour. The house is quite beautiful, matching Matlock in elegance and simplicity; and I found I like it very much indeed. Naturally, I also observed my companions and could see Miss Bingley mentally cataloging all the things she would do move toward the vulgar if she had any control over the décor; which was an amusement in its own right.

During the tour, Mr. Darcy seemed to be going out of his way to drag out the tour, inserting sufficient detail of every feature to satisfy both my curiosity and our aunt and uncle's; and clearly at least double what the superior sisters were capable of understanding or tolerating.

After the tour of the ground floor is where things began to get strange. By this time the sisters were dragging, but of course those in my party are made of sterner stuff, so we were quite refreshed. Through some sort of signal or trickery, Mr. Darcy convinced the Bingleys to abandon the tour in favor of more refreshment. After they were gone, Mr. Darcy unexpectedly offered to show us some of the guest rooms on the next floor. This was quite surprising, but we acquiesced readily enough. The rooms were everything that you would expect, and I must say everything wonderful. I was quite surprised at Mr. Darcy taking the trouble to show them to us.

After the guest rooms were complete, Mr. Darcy's behavior became even odder. He asked if Aunt and I would indulge him by advising him on the décor of a particular room. It seemed an odd request, but not sufficient to commit him to Bedlam, so we agreed while Uncle went to find the other gentleman. Miss Darcy naturally accompanied us, and we ascended to the next floor and over to the family wing. Mr. Darcy showed us a room that was absolutely stunningly beautiful. The furnishings and colors were not currently fashionable, and the room appeared as if it had not been used in some time; but it had a timeless elegance that looked like it could stand the test of decades without strain.

Mr. Darcy asked anxiously for our opinion, which seemed like the strangest thing he has ever done. I indicated that I could not think of a single thing to change in the room, and Aunt agreed. He seemed quite happy with the praise, so I exerted myself to ask what room it was, and nearly swooned when he indicated it was the mistress' suite, vacant and unchanged these 15 years since his mother passed. It took me several moments to comprehend the honor of being shown the room, and then looking at Miss Darcy, I calculated her mother must have died in childbirth or soon thereafter; so the poor girl never really had a mother. Perhaps the housekeeper or governesses performed the office suitably, but with no sisters and no mother, she must have had a difficult upbringing.

At that time, I began to have a new and more charitable theory about Mr. Darcy's intent. I believed he could see his sister was lonely and completely unprepared for society. I then suspected he wanted her to have a friend near to her own age but somewhat older to possibly support her in the endeavor. She has a companion, but that is not the same as a friend; and I fancied myself the one that he had chosen to try to fulfill the office. Perhaps the fact that I have never been the slightest bit impressed by his wealth, manners or position in society had given me a certain aura of respectability in his eyes; and of course, since it is obvious to the most casual observer that I am not setting my cap for him, he could consider himself completely safe. The intimacy of showing his mother's suite to us was not lost on me, and I was very conscious of the honor of having him want me to befriend his sister and it all made complete sense. I must confess, at that moment I felt I could almost be friends with the man, and being friends with Miss Darcy is as easy as breathing.

I felt quite content with the exchange, and fancied that Miss Darcy might as well, and we returned to the ground floor to take more refreshment and things took yet another unexpected twist.

When we returned to the drawing room, I found I had another introduction in front of me. Yes, as you may have surmised, I was introduced to the infamous Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was apparently to visit for a fortnight. He was exactly as Jane described in Kent, so I need not go through any tedious details about the next hour of idle conversation. He and Mr. Bingley were having an amiability contest, with both talking much but saying little.

When it came near time to leave though, Colonel Fitzwilliam showed that a decorated soldier can be more forward and direct than an idle man like Mr. Bingley, because he asked about Jane specifically. The past hour had left me feeling more and more insecure in my assessment of our host and his designs; particularly since I have found my opinions to be wrong in so many instances. I also was beginning to think I could never really trust that I could learn anything whatsoever from a gentleman's manners, since both the colonel and Mr. Bingley were everything amiable and polite, but both hosted character defects that we have all discussed many times; and of course, Mr. Darcy's manners seem to change with the wind. When it was nearly time to go, Colonel Fitzwilliam found a quiet place where we could not be overheard and asked after you directly Jane, and apologized for not being able to take leave properly.

Jane, at this point I think I learned something. As you well know I have something of a fiery temper and angry people are not always wise; and henceforth you may hold me up as an example of that principle. I found I had just about all this man's company I could stand, and he also reminded me of what had happened in November. Since he was being direct, I decided I could do the same. I asked him if he remembered his very last conversation in Kent. He looked somewhat perplexed, but managed to assert that he did. I quite boldly asked him if he could tell me _why_ his cousin Mr. Darcy had performed such an admirable service for Mr. Bingley. He seemed confused by the question, but took it in stride, and told me, and I must quote, _"There were some very strong objections against the lady"_. At that very moment, any cordial feelings towards any gentleman in Hertfordshire evaporated like smoke.

Almost instantly, the full and complete truth fell on me like an ax. All my previously discarded ideas about Mr. Darcy came back full force, and I felt nearly ill at how badly I had been taken in by his newly minted amiability. It all became very clear in a single moment. Mr. Darcy is just another rake like his friend and his cousin, and they were simply toying with me for their own amusement. How could Mr. Darcy claim my elder sister who is superior to me in every way was so unsuitable as to make an entire party quit the county without taking leave; and then try to ingratiate himself with me but a few months later? I could think of only one explanation to fit that set of facts, and it did not paint anyone in that county in a favorable or even honorable light.

At that moment, I felt physically ill. I gave Aunt Gardiner the signal to say I wished to leave as soon as possible, and Uncle asked for the carriage be brought around. The superior sisters made some faux protests at our departure, and Mr. Darcy asked if we might stay for supper, but Aunt and Uncle understood that I was truly distressed, and completed our departure as quickly as it could be done with any semblance of politeness. Mr. Darcy seemed perplexed by the suddenness of our desire to depart immediately, but I was not concerned with his feelings, as his conquest can wait for his next unsuspecting victim.

Before I left, I thought I should insure that the so-called _gentlemen_ understood that I was onto their game, and done with the lot of them. I managed one more time to speak quietly with the colonel, and tasked him to, _"Tell your cousin that I am fully appraised of his good deed, in every particular, and I concur that he did the exactly correct thing for all involved."_ He seemed thoroughly befuddled by that, and even more perplexed when I further charged him to ask his cousin for the ' _precise identity_ of the _most unsuitable lady'_ , then I left him to explain to his cousin how their amusement was over and done for. I have no idea how long they thought they could string us along, and as I had shown myself to be completely lacking in discernment, perhaps they thought they could continue the game indefinitely, or more likely until their goal was achieved, whatever it was.

Forgive me for breaking a confidence, but my judgment was and continues to in serious doubt, so I begged Aunt and Uncle to advise me. I told them the entire story from that ill-fated assembly in Meryton to the Colonel's final declaration and asked them if I was in error. We discussed it for several hours, and finally, they said that my explanation was not the only possible one, or perhaps not even the most likely; but that we were unlikely to get any better, and it would perhaps be for the best if we simply returned to our own sphere. Any man who would slight a lady on his first acquaintance without even the courtesy of an introduction could just as easily be a cad as anything else; Mr. Bingley's actions needed no explanation; and the colonel's boasting could not possibly be seen in a prudential light. In the end, since there is no benefit to us to spend time with members of first circles, and since there is no affection in either direction, there is really no need to continue the acquaintance. It is not as if we will run into any of those men in Cheapside, so we decided that our business with the Darcys and Fitzwilliams was complete. There is really nothing we can do to protect their next victim, except insure that she is not a Bennet or Gardiner.

We are to leave in four days' time. I now think I fully comprehend completely how you felt last winter Jane, and I am heartily sorry I could not quite understand you then. I do not feel like I was a very good sister. I fell for a cad's sweet words like a fish to a tasty worm, and he nearly reeled me all the way into his basket; even though I had your two experiences to teach me caution. I shudder to think what would have happened had I not happened on the colonel today. I have no idea what Mr. Darcy was about, but considering how _unsuitable_ the Bennet sisters are, I can imagine no honorable intention.

I believe that with my message via the colonel, the men will all know their game is over and the Bennet sisters are now forewarned, forearmed, and no longer to be trifled with. Just in case one of them should wish to continue their conquest, Uncle has advised I stay with him at all times until our departure; and since three of those days are devoted to his business; that can be easily arranged. He also wrote a very cleverly worded note thanking the hosts graciously for the day, while making it clear that we were otherwise engaged for the remainder of our stay. It was polite and firm, just the sort of thing that marks our uncle as a true gentleman. We also agreed to breakfast early and leave on our business before calling hours, just in case one of them wishes to make a last effort at furthering the acquaintance; and I most certainly will not walk out or do anything else for that matter without my uncle or a footman for protection.

And so, at long last, I fully comprehend my own foolishness, and I am heartily ashamed of my lack of discernment. However, I am grudgingly satisfied that all the Bennet sisters are well and truly finished with this entire wolf pack, and we can now get on with our own lives free of their influence.

I must close now as the post is to leave soon, and I have some serious reflections about my own lack of judgment to ponder at some length.

Faithfully,  
Elizabeth

* * *

 **Severance**

3 August 1812  
Lambton, Derbyshire

Dearest Sisters,

I can now faithfully report that I know exactly what a true gentleman is. He is exactly as our Uncle Gardiner. For the last two days, Mr. Darcy has called several times each day, asking to speak with myself or Uncle Gardiner, and we simply took his calling cards and burned them. However, Mr. Darcy is a stubborn and persistent sort, our uncle is not a man to shy away from anyone or anything, and the man finally exhausted Uncle's patience, so he agreed to meet.

Uncle Gardiner does not hold with the notion that females should be protected from all knowledge of the world; but neither would he sanction me meeting with Mr. Darcy without my approval, which was not forthcoming. He suggested I stand outside the door so I could hear what the man had to say without being directly involved. He did not consider it eavesdropping, nor did I, since I was no doubt the topic of conversation.

Their discussion lasted for several minutes, with Mr. Darcy asserting that there was some sort of misunderstanding, and he would like to explain himself. Uncle was unfailingly polite, kind and deferential… until he had enough. I could hear the moment when he lost his temper, as his voice started sounding like an ax scraping across a whetstone. He proceeded to put the man in his place with a set down for the ages.

He said, _"Mr. Darcy, my nieces know exactly four Northmen. One paid very particular attention to my eldest niece for six weeks, then left without a single word, save a very nasty letter from his sister. The second both slighted my second-eldest publicly without ever having met her, and then boasted of arranging his friend's bout of ungentlemanly behavior to at least his cousin and who knows who else. The third openly boasted of your perfidy as an everyday occurrence, to the very same niece four months later, not even being aware he was boasting about breaking her own heart to the very lady herself. The fourth left Meryton with a mountain of debt that he will never be able to pay back, even should he attempt it, which seems unlikely. I believe my nieces have had quite enough of Northmen, and I take that opinion directly from Elizabeth."_

Oh, it was so perfect I actually kissed my uncle after Mr. Darcy left. It made me reflect, and upon further thinking I believe I am tempted to give up on the gentry entirely. Of all the men we are acquainted with, the only three I truly esteem are Uncle Gardiner, Uncle Philips and Mr. Ellery. You will note that they are all men of trade. Yes, I believe I will be most content to leave the gentry behind and join the ranks of the tradesmen. They seem much more worthy on average.

We leave in two days' time, and the post is coming soon so I must close.

Your rebellious sister,  
Lizzy

* * *

 **Rebellion**

4 August 1812  
Lambton, Derbyshire

Mr. Thomas Bennet, Esq.  
Longbourn, Hertfordshire

Mr. Bennet,

You will please forgive the formal style of this letter, and the unusual delivery. I am well aware of your indolence with respect to correspondence, as well as with other matters so I have asked my Uncle Philips to deliver the missive by hand and wait for you to read it.

I wish to make you aware sir of a serious breach of all manners, civility and even human decency that has gone unchecked in your household for many months, and has finally reached a breaking point which cannot be undone. I also wish to appraise you of the consequences thereof.

Please find attached a two-page letter crossed dated 5 August 1812 from your wife, Mrs. Francine Bennet, apparently in response to a short note I sent her as an olive branch, of which I have also attached a copy. Also, please note another letter dated 1 August from my aunt, Mrs. Louisa Philips. Please take the time to peruse all three letters now.

* * *

If you have read them, you will have ascertained that the letter from your wife, Mrs. Bennet, is the vilest, most hate filled, ignorant, uncharitable, ignorant (I repeat deliberately for emphasis) piece of slander that it has ever been my poor fortune to witness, let alone have addressed to me. I do not know of a single other person who is capable of such vile language. Some of the words were so bad I had to ask my uncle to translate them into the King's English, and he steadfastly refused to do so on around half.

Mrs. Philips' missive includes the same slanderous gossip, with a clear indication that the gossip has been circling in Meryton society like vultures for these many months; with the primary source being your own wife, Mrs. Francine Bennet, who cannot even keep her incivilities inside her own home.

I also have reliable accounts that the same unrepentantly nasty language has been heaped upon your four daughters indiscriminately for most of a year, and my heart goes out to them for they cannot escape it. My only correspondents have been your daughters, Jane and Mary. I believe Jane has minimized it, to spare my feelings; but Mary seems more inclined towards the unvarnished truth, but also seems to have reached her utter limit of tolerance.

From these clear truths, I must conclude sir that either your wife, Mrs. Francine Bennet has deliberately decided to break the vows she swore at your side when you joined in holy matrimony, in particular, the honor and obey portions; or that you have not bestirred yourself from your book room to instruct her properly in the most basic of civilities which should have been engrained either at her mother's knee, or by her husband's instruction. I would assume the latter case, but you are entitled to your own opinion.

I am reliably informed that your wife, Mrs. Francine Bennet has repeatedly said that she will never speak my name again, but I must assume she means that in a _figurative_ sense; as she repeats the assertions many times over the course of an hour.

I on the other hand would _not_ use such language frivolously. It is therefore my unpleasant duty to inform you that I will _never_ speak her name again _literally_. From this day, _I am no longer known_ to your wife, Mrs. Francine Bennet in any way. I will never step foot in Longbourn again. If she should happen to encounter me in a lane or unexpectedly in another house, I will cut her direct. I will no longer tolerate a single word of her abuse. You may choose to check her or not, as you choose as head of the household; but if you wish any of your four daughters to marry well or even retain their sanity, I would suggest a more active course than you have previously ascribed to. You may choose to give me control of my pin money through Uncle Gardiner; or cut it off entirely and either spread it across your other dowerless daughters, or waste it on yet more books.

If you wish some advice, I would recommend you save it for dowries, as I have only recently learned you sent your silliest, worst behaving and most unreliable daughter to Brighton with a camp full of soldiers, under the chaperonage of another young lady of even less sense. Severe damage to the remaining three Bennet daughters' reputations seems the most likely outcome. I have long abandoned any pretense or hope of marrying well, but I will be sorry to see the rest of my worthier sisters' reputations ruined; as seems imminent.

Uncle and Aunt Gardiner have seen these letters, as has Uncle Philips. Uncle and Aunt Gardiner have agreed to assist me in setting up an establishment in town, and I have already secured employment which will satisfy my meager requirements for a good life. I am of age now, so am neither duty nor honor bound to notify you of anything, but so long as you allow correspondence with my sisters, I will promise to give you word of any significant events in my life through them. I will also beg that you allow each of your other daughters save Lydia to have a few months in town to attempt to find husbands without the constant screeching of your wife, Mrs. Bennet; who is very much more of a hindrance than a help in matrimonial matters.

I have saved enough money to retain Uncle Philips services for a few hours, and he will present you with a legal, signed and witnessed document attesting to the above stipulations.

I also feel I may no longer bear the same name as that hateful woman, so I have taken steps, with Uncle's permission to remove myself from it. Perhaps one day I will marry a worthy tradesman and change it again, but I am disinclined to wait, so for now I remain,

Elizabeth Gardiner

* * *

 **Consolation**

4 August 1812  
Lambton, Derbyshire

Dearest Sisters,

Please prepare yourself for either a raging firestorm or no reaction whatsoever to the missive I have just delivered to Mr. Bennet. I cannot bear to write it again so I have tasked Uncle Philips with showing you a copy or giving you the broad outlines. I will stay at the inn when we pass through Meryton, and I would beg you to both visit me there, and return to town with me for a time. Uncle and Aunt have agreed to the scheme, and should Mr. Bennet survive his approaching thrashing that Uncle Gardiner has planned, you should be able to do so with his permission; although Jane is of age and does not require it.

I received the most horrid letter from my former mother right after I wrote you about Uncle's setdown for Mr. Darcy, and I finally at long last have had all I can take. I have no idea how the rest of you survive in that madhouse. It is far worse than either of you surmised in previous correspondence.

You will see the letter from Uncle Philips. I must see you when we go through Hertfordshire, although I will not be going to Longbourn. Please say you will come visit me.

Your dearest sister,

Elizabeth Gardiner

P.S. Please forgive the tears. I have had two of the three most trying days of my life in rapid succession.

* * *

 **Elopement**

7 August 1812  
Lambton, Derbyshire

Dearest Sisters,

Stupid Stupid Stupid Lydia! She has well and truly ruined what small chance we had to marry well, but she will not ruin our lives, of that I assure you. I warned Mr. Bennet of this, and in perhaps my only accurate assessment of this entire year, I predicted this very outcome in the last horrible letter to him cutting off my relationship with Mrs. Bennet.

As you well know, this letter follows on three of the worst days of my life, but I fear this is the very bottom, because if Mr. Wickham is anything like his other Northman comrades, I truly fear for Lydia. While true that she has made her own bed, she is still my sister and I see no way this can end well, or even not end very very badly.

I am afraid that this has just confirmed my belief that none of the Bennet sisters will marry well. Our chances were not good before, and it is now nigh on impossible; but do not despair. I have been preparing myself this half-year, so other than having _complete_ certainty of our general unsuitability to marry anyone of consequence, rather than my previous _near_ certainty, my outlook has not changed very much. As you know, my recent experience leads me to prefer tradesmen anyway, but even that hope will probably be quashed with this scandal. There is very little hope it will not spread to town.

My first inclination was to panic and insist we leave posthaste so that our uncle could assist in any way possible, but that feeling soon passed. What purpose would be served by running around hither and yon with our hair afire, when there is really nothing to be done? The die has been cast, and nothing we do is likely to change the outcome. From what you say of the debts Mr. Wickham left in Hertfordshire, and the number of women and girls he apparently tried to charm, it seems extremely unlikely a marriage is in the offing. I only hope Lydia can be recovered from whatever rookery Mr. Wickham probably has her secreted off to, but even that seems too much to hope for.

Uncle's business here in Derbyshire has been concluded, and as you well know, we have not been enjoying our holiday or our business very much these last few days, so we shall leave at a decent hour on the morrow, and arrive back in Meryton in four days' time as expected. I shall continue to Cheapside with Aunt and Uncle as I have said, and resume my employment, which has become not just an amusement, but essential for our futures. Do not fret about this, as I shall not. After the loss of a mother and my own belief in my sensibility and discernment, what is my reputation. The scandal will eventually die down, and tradesmen of real quality will eventually be found for us, and all will be well.

Uncle Gardiner already helped me work out the sums regarding how I may support myself in my own establishment, and while difficult, it is manageable; but it would be easier if two or three of us lived together and shared the burden. I believe both of you will need to join me sooner rather than later, but I will leave that to your discretion.

My only advice is to not let Mrs. Bennet ruin your life. I can well imagine her taking to her bed and her salts, crying to all the gods that she is ill-used. In fact, I quite imagine she will try to lay this debacle at my door as well; but I very well know she is simply reaping what she has sown this last ten years. It will only affect me insofar as it affects both of you, so I beg you not to allow her to do so. Come back to Cheapside with me that we may begin anew. We will send for Kitty once we have an establishment, and I believe we will all be better off for leaving Hertfordshire.

Your beloved sister  
Lizzy Gardiner

* * *

 **Friends**

8 August 1812  
Lambton, Derbyshire

Dearest Sisters,

I do believe every day in this accursed county is worse than the last, and I am so relieved that tonight's inn is very close to its southern border, and tomorrow I shall leave it forever.

We were preparing to board Uncle's coach this morning when I was approached by the very last person I ever expected to see, Miss Darcy. I confess I did not have the slightest idea what to do with the her. She appeared to be there without her brother's knowledge or permission, as she was accompanied only by a rather burly footman. Uncle looked at the pair of them askance, but I cannot blame the poor girl for her brother and cousin's actions any more than I could blame you two for Mrs. Bennet's, so I agreed to talk with her.

The young lady was practically in tears, and _begged_ me to tell her what happened between her brother and I to sever the connection. How could I possibly answer a question like that? I have known her for mere days, and aside from the impropriety of sharing such private information, I still do not believe I am completely impervious to repercussions from her brother. He is still a man who could make trouble for me, particularly when I leave my uncle's protection, as I feel I must. I cannot be a burden to them forever, particularly since it will be four much‑reduced Bennet sisters without husbands instead of just one.

I really think her brother went too far with his scheme, as the young lady was quite looking forward to having a real friend. In the end, I could probably forgive him nearly any of his many trespasses, but to use his own sister so abominably is beyond the pale.

I began to comprehend that the poor girl probably has an enormous dowry and a very rich and unmarried brother, so she has no doubt had to ward off fortune or husband hunters like Miss Bingley nearly since birth. _Perhaps she has never had a real friend._ Can you imagine growing up without sisters or friends like Charlotte? And despite recently severing all connections with my former mother, I cannot imagine growing up with no mother at all. For the first time in my life, I was happy about our lack of fortune.

I confess I had not the slightest idea what I could tell her. I tried prevaricating until she literally begged me to tell her _the truth_. I did not have the heart to tell her about her brother or cousin. I was trying to think of _anything_ I could say, when she importuned me to be the only person she had ever met to _not_ treat her like a baby; and that request was too much for me to bear. I still could not tell her about the men in her life who will still be there tomorrow and the day after and the day after, but I had to tell her _something_ that was _true_.

In the end, the only thing I could think to tell her that was both true, and _not_ in any way blaming _her_ family for the permanently severed connection was to tell her about _our_ family's scandal. Since I am certain Mrs. Bennet is blathering it all over Meryton even now, I believed there was no lasting harm in telling her, as it would place all the blame on _our_ family, and none on _hers_. It would be shocking for such a young girl, but likely not the first such scandal she has heard of, and it seemed the perfect solution. I just did not have the heart to crush the poor soul by revealing the true reason.

So, that is what I did. I told her that she could not keep a connection to us because my youngest sister had eloped with a known rake and gambler; and chances of a marriage at present seemed extremely unlikely. It was therefore impossible to maintain any further association, lest the poor sweet girl be tarnished by association. I judged this would be just shocking enough to the lady to relieve any apprehension that she was at fault, and allow her to proceed to find a more appropriate friend, now that she had the idea in her mind. It was a terrible solution, but the only one I could think of that would not jeopardize her relationships with her closest family; something I could not do to such an innocent girl, or really any woman.

I was taken aback when she turned white and asked for the rake's name, and I am afraid that in yet another spectacular lapse in judgment, I gave it to her. In my distress, I completely forgot that Wickham grew up at Pemberley, and she may actually know him personally. As soon as the name escaped my lips I regretted it, and even more so when she collapsed in my arms in a dead faint.

Aunt Gardiner was there to attend her immediately, and Uncle sent the Darcy coachman to return to Pemberley for Mr. Darcy posthaste. Her footman carried her inside the inn, and application of a cold cloth brought her around nearly immediately, with no lasting harm done.

I apologized profusely over and over again, while she tried to do the same. We both finally started laughing in a sort of hysteria. When she had settled down, I told her we had sent for her brother, and we would wait for his arrival before departing. She begged me to talk to her brother again, but I confess I did not have the strength for it, nor did my uncle have the inclination; particularly with Miss Darcy present.

I gave her leave to tell her brother about our scandal, surmising it would be one more thing that would keep the family away from us, and I did not have the heart to ask her to keep a confidence from her guardian. With our coach loaded and the horses waiting impatiently in the traces, we waited only for Mr. Darcy to appear, then with Uncle telling him she had fainted but appeared fine now, we took our leave as politely as we could, given our history, and left her in his care.

I sit here and cry over the exchange. Everything I do regarding that family seems wrong, and even though I had nothing but affection for Miss Darcy, and strove at every turn to do the right thing by her, in the end I know I caused her pain, and the poor girl is worse off for having made the acquaintance.

There is nothing I can do about it now, so I will close and try to sleep.

Your bedraggled sister  
Lizzy


	3. Sisters

**Enemies**

5 September 1812  
Gracechurch Street

Dearest Sisters,

Would you feel terribly bad if I were hung for murdering our sister? I only ask as a point of reference, as I would judge that the most likely outcome of any further exposure to her. Aside from Mrs. Bennet, she is the most ill‑mannered, ill‑bred and ignorant female it has ever been my displeasure to know, or in fact ever heard of. I now repent the loss of the Bingley sisters, as they would be an improvement.

I have been charged with informing my sisters that Lydia has been found, and she will be married from Gracechurch Street in our local parish. Uncle has been looking for her these three weeks days, and meeting with various gentlemen who were instrumental in the search while I was attending my employment. Mr. Ellery is quite satisfied with the business arrangements Uncle made in Derbyshire, and has given me the honor of acting not only as clerk, but as his agent in a more responsible position than I ever imagined. Aside from the need to periodically travel to the hated northern county, it is everything wonderful. But, as you can see, I digress again as I am avoiding the unpleasant story that is your due.

I came home to Gracechurch Street last night, and found Lydia thoroughly unrepentant, and boasting of her upcoming marriage. I thought she was quite touched in the head, but Aunt assured me that it had been arranged. I cannot imagine what it must have cost our uncle to accomplish it. I had been previously made aware of Wickham's level of debt, and it is substantial. He also seems to have a commission in the regulars, and that must have cost as well. I cannot see how Uncle managed it for less than £7-10,000. Such a sum is more than Mr. Bennet could possibly pay back in his lifetime, even should he attempt it, as Longbourn's total income is short of £2,000 and Mrs. Bennet overspends her allowance nearly every day. It would seem we are more indebted to Aunt and Uncle than we can ever repay.

Lydia was both boasting of her good fortune, and simultaneously berating Aunt because she was not to get a trousseau, or any new dresses or bonnets. Lydia had apparently been chastising Aunt for some time in this manner before I arrived home, and no amount of words from either of our lips could silence the little hoyden. I must admit, that at that moment I could well have killed her. Instead, I took the much more sensible approach of simply grabbing her ear like a misbehaving schoolboy, and dragging her up the stairs by it. Once above stairs, I simply locked her in a spare bedroom and told her I would be back for her when her wedding was arranged. She stormed around, breaking things and generally making herself every bit the worthless individual her mother has been crafting this last decade, but at long last relented. I have taken the bold step of forbidding Aunt and all the servants from so much as talking to her or even walking by her door, which Uncle found most amusing, but agreed to.

I sent a note to Mr. Ellery begging a few days leave to deal with her, as there is no possibility I will force Aunt or her children to deal with the miserable chit. She is to be my cross to bear for the next two days until the wedding, and I will worry about just how far my own manners and language have fallen after that event is complete.

I have discussed the arrangements with Aunt and Uncle in some detail. I will stand up with Lydia, simply because I cannot imagine saddling anyone else with the miserable chore. Uncle and I will escort her to the church to meet her sorry excuse for a groom, who apparently is obliged to complete the ceremony or be turned over to the magistrate for debtor's prison. Given the choice of Lydia or a life in debtor's prison, I am not certain he made the right choice, but I am somewhat satisfied that the two of them are most suitable for each other, and they are both removing themselves from the company of the rest of the world. Uncle also appraised me of what their income will be, and while they will survive, Lydia has not the slightest idea of how unwell they will live. Her education is about to begin in earnest.

We will host a wedding breakfast at Gracechurch street, but Aunt has wisely sent her children away to a friend's house until after the couple has departed. I will do my best to refrain from strangling either or both of them, so I would ask you to wish me luck or patience.

Now I must come to the most distressing part for you. They are to visit Longbourn for nearly a se'nnight, before repairing to his commission, which is apparently as far north as you can get and still be on English soil. With any luck, he will be shipped off to the continent and either killed or tamed. I begged Uncle to stop this mad plan, but both Aunt and Uncle assure me that a very public visit to the neighborhood is the only thing that will restore our reputations. He plans to simply tell Mrs. Bennet a bald-faced lie about the whole affair, and she will spread it around like wildfire. You must endure them for a se'nnight, and then they will be off forever.

I must close now to get some supper for Lydia. I refuse to let her out of her bedroom if she will not be civil, and I must admit to being pessimistic.

Your bedraggled sister  
Lizzy

* * *

 **Astonishment**

7 September 1812  
Gracechurch Street

Dearest Jane and Mary,

Thank you both for your wonderful letter, and I especially thank you for managing to send it express. You have no idea how much it warms my heart to know I have two such wonderful sisters, and today I need all the reminder of worthy sisters I can get.

I hear Lydia preparing to face her wedding day, so I shall add to this letter after the hateful event has transpired.

* * *

I have endured Lydia's wedding day now, and the party has _finally_ , departed so I may deliver the surprising news of the day, but prepare yourselves for a shock. All previous exclamations of absolute astonishment are to be completely forgotten, as I have had the most surreal experience of my life… well, actually two in rapid succession.

The first was that Lydia was reasonably quiet and polite as we made her ready for her wedding and escorted her to the church. I have come to really think the worst of her in every way and even though that is uncharitable of me, considering how much she has cost our aunt and uncle as well as all our sisters, with no regard for consequences whatsoever, I find I cannot and will not forgive her. Perhaps someday in the far future I may relent slightly, but not today or anytime soon.

Aunt continues to show how a true lady acts, and helped Lydia make up one of her dresses as well as could be done, then patiently listened to her prattling on about lack of trousseau or new dresses or bonnets with astonishing patience. For my part, I kept starting at her ear, and willing myself to _not_ grab it and drag her back upstairs, but compared to that first day, she was an absolute lady.

As you would expect, there were just Aunt and Uncle in attendance, along with me standing up with Lydia. That idea obviously filled me with mortification, as if I would approve the union, but it is my duty to my other sisters, and I agreed to perform the office as I could not ask one more thing of our aunt.

We walked to the local parish, and entered a big cavernous building that looked thoroughly forlorn and lonely with just the four of us making up the party while waiting for the groom to appear. I was doing my best to not weep, and our least sensible sister was doing her best to not dance around in raptures. It was quite disconcerting.

The doors opened again, we all turned to the back, and I had the _very most shocking experience of my life_. It quite exceeded Mr. Collins' proposal by a wide margin, every shock of the previous month, and the nasty letter from Mrs. Bennet combined. All of those were as nothing compared to the extreme surprise of finding _Mr. Darcy_ standing up with Wickham. I must confess, I could do nothing except stand beside Lydia in open faced astonishment whilst the vows were read. Such was my shock, I did not even flinch when hearing Lydia and that man say words like love and honor without the slightest indication that they understood the irony.

Once the ceremony concluded, I found myself signing my name next to Mr. Darcy's in the wedding register, yet another experience I would never in my life have anticipated. His countenance was _not_ that of a man doing something he enjoyed, but more like a man on his way to the gallows; or come to think of it, a man who had already been there. I have never seen such a look of abject misery, and I was quite at a loss to explain it. I had no idea why he was there at all, let alone with such an expression, but I must confess it was not very long before my suspicions were aroused to the fullest.

Before we quit the church, Mr. Darcy stepped aside with the despicable groom and Uncle Gardiner, and a sheaf of papers were all signed with little ceremony. Wickham (I will never call him either 'brother' or 'mister') signed with a flourish and a despicable snigger, and Mr. Darcy signed with grim determination. But that was not the oddest part, no not at all. I was at the time quite befuddled, and fully unable to find any explanation for the phenomena, but _Uncle Gardiner did not sign anything!_ Nothing at all! Not a single parchment. All he did was place himself in a position I could not understand, until I noted that it would be very difficult for Mr. Darcy to see me observing the proceedings. The gentleman had quite forgotten me, but I suspect had he had all his wits about him, they would have gone somewhere more private for the nasty business. I know the look of business documents, and there is no doubt in my mind that Wickham was being paid to marry our sister, and being paid a substantial sum.

Such was my level of confusion that it took me a full five minutes or more to comprehend the only possible explanation. I am certain you will have worked it out by now, but I could not think properly. By the time I realized the only possible explanation, I ran out of the church as if chased by wolves, trying to shout my profound thanks, but I was too late. The gentleman, and I am now heartily ashamed I refused to use that appellation a mere few weeks ago, was in his carriage and leaving. My thanks were shouted to the wind, and I am quite certain he did not hear me.

My only hope now, and it is a forlorn one, is that one day I may encounter him in the blacksmith shop when I go to Lambton for Mr. Ellery and may give him my thanks before he has time to run away. I am determined that shall happen, for as I am quite certain you are now aware; the only possible explanation for his actions in the church is that _he paid for everything_. Had Uncle Gardiner done so as I had always assumed, then he would have had to sign, but Mr. Darcy was the only gentleman to leave the church with ink on his fingers.

When I returned, I braced Uncle about it. Clever man had to tell me that in fact, Mr. Darcy had done much more than I surmised. Not only did he buy the commission and pay Wickham's debts, but he also found the couple, tried to talk Lydia into leaving Wickham, offered to find her a worthier husband, and finally made all the arrangements to save the Bennet sisters when she would not be moved. Why he should do so is quite beyond me, but he seems to have felt honor bound. The only possible explanation I can come up with is that he must have known Wickham's propensities last winter but chose not to warn our family, and his honor demanded that he offer the protection now that he omitted back then. Nothing else makes the slightest sense to me, and even that one stretches credulity to the limit. Uncle said he had agreed with Mr. Darcy to never tell me what he had done, which was why Uncle, clever man that he was, found a way for me to work it out on my own without _actually_ telling me.

So, dear sisters, I must say that I am heartily ashamed of most of the things I said about him. He was arrogant and rude in Hertfordshire, and he either saved Jane from an indifferent suitor or destroyed her happiness with his interference; but I believe more reflection will produce a much more charitable explanation for that event as well. I also surmised from what Uncle told me about the date he first met with the gentleman, he must have left Pemberley within hours of my leaving Miss Darcy, and rode straight to London to start his search.

All I can say is that this day's actions have shown him to be a true gentleman, and quite possibly the best man I have ever known. I only hope for a chance to thank him one day, because he has truly saved all my sisters.

Your beloved sister  
Lizzy

* * *

 **Reflection**

15 October 1812  
Gracechurch Street

Dearest Jane and Mary,

I must say I enjoy our habit of combined letters that we have established since my journey to the wilds of Derbyshire, as it makes me feel almost as if the three of us are stuffed together in bed chattering away under the covers like we did when we were little girls. The last month or more since Lydia's wedding have rushed by like a thunderstorm.

Uncle Gardiner and Mr. Ellery have been loading me with work practically from dawn to dusk every day, and I must confess it is the most exciting time of my life. I find that being useful sits quite well with me, and I can hardly bear he thought of idleness. In fact, as you well know, pride is my worst character defect, and even though the last year has ground it down practically to nothing, it is now on the mend. Uncle Gardiner and Mr. Ellery are both _very_ happy with my work, and Mr. Ellery has even increased my wage. In another bow towards good sense and away from convention, he says he pays for value delivered instead of effort expended or gender. I seem to have a knack for pulling information out of ledgers, manifests and other business documents that is not obvious to a casual observer, and the business I assist them with is doing _very_ well. I can proudly say I have prevented more than one error that would have been costly if not detected. In fact, Mr. Ellery has even had me act as his agent a few times, and I show some talent in the. craft. I believe the gentlemen are doing an experiment to see whether having a woman perform the negotiations makes the results worse because men will not deal with me, or better because they underestimate me. To date, the latter seems to be the primary case, so I am gadding about all over London with a footman for protection.

The footman that usually accompanies me, Mr. Samson, is as big and burly as a maple tree, has a frightening looking scar from his right eye running down his cheek that he acquired fighting on the continent and wears a most disagreeable expression. He is in fact, quite the most frightening looking man I have ever seen; except when his eyes are directed toward his intended. Then he looks like a weeks old piglet. They are to wed in a fortnight's time, and I have the privilege of standing up with his betrothed; mostly because I introduced them _(not matchmaking – an introduction does not a match make)._ My only pretension to the dark arts I will admit to is that I _have_ from time to time asserted on some of my journeys about town that I require a maid, for unspoken and vague female reasons. That is not matchmaking… just thoroughly enjoying the look of two young people in love. Betsy works in Uncle's household and Mr. Samson in Mr. Ellery's, but I am quite certain a change in employment for one or the other will happen after their wedding, as I have seen the two gentlemen looking at them carefully and subtly making plans; well as subtle as a bull charging anyway.

I am extremely distressed that Mrs. Bennet has forbidden permission for either of you to visit me in town yet again, and as usual disappointed in Mr. Bennet's inability to exert himself to overrule her. Absent doing something so egregious she drives you out of the house like she did me, I can see no recourse. However, I do have a suggestion. I am to travel with Mr. Ellery and his wife in a few weeks' time, and will be gone at least a month. Perhaps one or both of you can get the hateful woman to allow you to visit the Gardiners in my absence if you tell her you plan to take Mr. Bennet's hunting rifle and try to bag a husband. I am very unhappy I will not be able to see you, but I would so much like to see you out of that poisonous household.

In fact, I have already taken steps to get my employers assistance in setting up my own establishment, so I do not plan to return to Gracechurch street after my next trip. That will allow me to see you, so long as you can stand the small subterfuge of reporting back to Mrs. Bennet that I no longer reside near Gracechurch street. It is not as if you must report the entire population of London. I believe it is time to put all the hurts of the past year behind us, and being out of Hertfordshire should help, and of course there is nothing in the world better than the soothing balm our aunt's presence. She is the only reason I am still sane. You need not even worry about expense. I saved most off the pin money I received before it was cut off, and would not be surprised to see Uncle supplement yours for the visit. Aunt Gardiner is quite frustrated with my lack of interest in the modiste, so I suspect you may be the victims of her desire to dress at least one elder niece well.

As I am certain you must be thinking, today is one year to the day since that fateful assembly in Meryton, when we met the two gentlemen that were to have such a profound effect on us. Jane, I take you at your word that you are well over Mr. Bingley's abrupt departure, and as you know, everything about Mr. Darcy is vexingly confusing, but you will notice that I have reapplied the term _gentlemen_ to them, as I believe it can fit for at least one of them.

Mr. Darcy's presence at Lydia's wedding has forced me to reexamine everything I think I know about him, and I believe that there are better explanations available which shall relate later; but for the moment, the clock just struck midnight and I must be up at dawn, so I must close.

Your beloved sister  
Lizzy

* * *

 **Mary**

5 November 1812  
Gracechurch Street

Dearest Mary,

Mary, you little minx! I must say that I am _prodigiously proud_ of you, and so very very happy that you have made a love match. The fact that you managed to meet a man, court him and receive his address without Mrs. Bennet even being aware of it is an accomplishment I shall brag to my grandchildren about, and you must also tell Jane I am ever so proud of her part as well. I am so happy, and I will not be satisfied until I drag every single detail of the courtship out of your lips with tongs if necessary, although I will obviously have to wait until you leave that household first.

I am so giddy with happiness, it is taking a bout of iron willed discipline to refrain from carrying on in that vein for another page or two, but alas you have asked for my help and advice, so I will endeavor to do so.

You do know after all the correspondence of the last year that I am probably the _last_ person that you should turn to for advice, as I seem to be wrong at least half the time. Be that as it may, you have asked and I will deliver; so long as you promise to pay more attention to your own council and that of your intended over anything I say.

After all the things that Mrs. Bennet has said to you and about you since you were a girl (it did not start when I turned down Mr. Collins, it had been going on for some time), I can well understand your desire to have a dignified betrothal and wedding; and I agree with you that it would be quite impossible with Mrs. Bennet's involvement. It may sound mean spirited, but I think you can agree that it is a cold-hearted statement of fact. The woman is vulgar and crass, and anything she touches will adopt that vulgarity. I would not suggest such a thing if you had not already asked, but since you have, then I do believe we must get you married without her interference.

That brings up some practical difficulties, and I have thought of several schemes to accomplish the goal. Being wed from Longbourn is clearly impossible, so we must dismiss it out of hand. That leaves your intended's parish or Uncle Gardiner's parish to choose from. You must also obtain permission to both wed, and to travel hither for the ceremony.

That brings us to the tricky part. In my new life in the world of business, I have learned to predict other's behavior somewhat by extrapolating from previous behavior to understand their motives, and then judging which perceived course of action will best match their motivations and habits. It works a surprisingly robust percentage of the time, so we can apply that to the principles in this drama.

Let us begin with the easiest one, Mr. Bennet. He will do the thing that causes him the least inconvenience, or expense regardless of the outcome. Did he not give that as his reason for allowing Lydia to go to Brighton? Has he not refused to check his wife or daughters for years just because it requires industry? Has he failed spectacularly to provide his daughters with dowries? Yes, I think he is the most reliable and predictable father in all of England. All you need do is present him with a fait accompli, and a piece of paper to sign that requires no effort or expense, and he will sign it and go back to his book. In the end, obtaining the _only_ thing you truly require from your parents, your father's permission, should be easily accomplished.

Now for Mrs. Bennet, things are easier. The simplest way to prevent her from interfering with your wedding is to prevent her from knowing it is happening until the deed is done. This may impinge on your sense of honor or propriety, but really it is the only way, and it is not as if the woman has earned any consideration. If you follow my scheme, you will be able to console yourself that you are not _actually_ lying to her. You are simply failing to inform her; a mere oversight.

Here is my scheme, of which I have already taken the liberty of consulting Aunt and Uncle, and they agree.

I am to understand that your betrothed has by necessity returned to his parish, to return when you are prepared for him. I applaud his sense of duty. It is yet another thing that speaks well of him, as if courting you during Lydia's debacle were not enough for ten men. For a man such as yours, nothing will do but to ask your father directly, so I suggest you have him write his proposed settlement and bring it with him. I will ask Uncle Gardiner to write a simple document turning you over to my employer, Mr. Ellery's protection. It so happens that I am traveling with Mr. Ellery and his wife to within twenty miles of your intended's parish in early November, so you shall simply travel with me. Once you have permission, your beau can read the banns for three weeks before we arrive, and when we arrive I will stand up with you, unless you have someone else in mind.

I also believe attempting to prevent Aunt Gardiner and Mrs. Ellery from buying you a trousseau would be an exercise in futility, so you may as well accept it with good grace. You will be traveling first to town, and thence to Derbyshire with Mr. and Mrs. Ellery and myself, so all the proprieties will be observed, and all will be well.

I do truly hope you will accept this plan, but I have one more perhaps distressing component you should comply with. Unless Mrs. Bennet has changed habits considerably, she always takes the carriage to Lucas Lodge every Tuesday morning and stays all morning for gossip and chatter. If you truly wish to escape, you must have your beau at Longbourn right after breakfast, and once permission has been granted, you must quickly pack and leave before she returns. You will send her a letter when the deed is done. I know the subterfuge will be distasteful to you, but it is either that or put up with her interference. You must decide which course is right for you.

Your inordinately proud and insufferably boastful sister  
Lizzy

* * *

 **Jane**

10 November 1812  
Gracechurch Street

Dearest Jane,

So, Mr. Bingley is to return to Netherfield right after the Christmas season! I would find it shocking, except I have quite lost the capacity to be surprised by anything to do with the Netherfield party or our family.

Since you have asked for my advice, I must repeat what I said to Mary. I have been wrong at least as often as right, so you must in the end accept your own council. However, since you have a few se'nnights before any chance of encountering the man, I will endeavor to write down my thoughts. To tell the truth, they have been circling around and around in my head the last month, and I think I may be able to offer some insights that will be useful to you, although they will be quite painful.

I have spent nearly every idle minute since Lydia's wedding going over everything that happened in the last year, and trying my best to understand it. In Lambton, the only explanation I could come up was uncharitable in the extreme, but such was my state of agitation that I could do nothing else. I believe I have looked on Mr. Darcy with a prejudicial eye at every opportunity since that first sleight, just over one year ago. Even when I asked Aunt and Uncle for their opinion, they took the story from my lips, and I can now see that I colored the narrative to bend it towards my foregone conclusion.

Mr. Darcy's support of Lydia's ill-fated marriage turned the tables over completely, to the point where I could no longer trust or believe a single thought I have had since the very beginning. After spending nearly every spare moment thinking about every interaction we have ever had, I believe I have an explanation that makes much more sense; as it explains every single occurrence so much better than my _rogue cad_ theory.

This is quite painful, but I can now remember _exactly_ what happened at the ball in Netherfield last November as if it were yesterday, and in fact I believe I can remember everything that happened with the gentlemen, even the times you were sick at Netherfield. At the ball, I now can see as clearly as a leaf under a magnifying glass that I was downright _rude_ to Mr. Darcy simply because he had the temerity to ask me politely for a dance. After that, I proceeded to needle him about his conversation, and hen abuse him by discussing another man… his sworn enemy as it turns out, and gave him not the slightest opportunity to defend himself, or turn the conversation to more pleasant topics. At the time, I was oh-so-certain in my beliefs that our dislike was mutual that I failed to listen to perfectly wise council from both you and Charlotte! Now, I can see that he did not dislike me at all. Perhaps he even esteemed me. It seems obvious in retrospect that if he disliked me, he would not have singled me out as the only woman in Hertfordshire that he chose to dance with. I even turned the man down twice before that.

As if that were not enough, it gets even worse. My rudeness and lack of manners were quickly followed by Mrs. Bennet screeching with all the power of her awful voice and vile manners about Mr. Bingley's £5,000 a year, how you would soon be mistress of Netherfield, and how he would then throw the other daughters in the path of other rich men. I was mortified at the time, and Mr. Darcy _must_ have heard it. I begged her to desist, and she insulted him directly and loudly. Lydia and Kitty were thoroughly in their cups and embarrassing the entire room, and Sir William had the temerity to _interrupt_ the dance to indicate only the date of Mr. Bingley's conquest was in doubt.

That last piece is vexing in the extreme, but Jane, I must point out that you are the most polite and genteel lady I have ever met, and that means you were following the rules of propriety to the letter. I could perfectly tell you preferred Mr. Bingley, and I felt he should be able to; _but Mr. Darcy could not_ , and a modest man like Mr. Bingley might not be certain. Charlotte asserted that you were too subtle in your indications of your preferences, and I fear she may have been right. Mr. Bingley may be a very good man, but he did not have the strength to stand up against the combined might of a lady's indifference and an obviously mercenary mother… who would?

All of this leads me to a most unsatisfactory conclusion, but the only one I can come up with that matches all the known facts. Mr. Darcy almost certainly _was_ the one to dissuade Mr. Bingley, because Mr. Bingley was thinking with his heart, and Mr. Darcy was thinking with his head. I fully believe Mr. Darcy convinced Mr. Bingley that he was the victim of a fortune-hunting family, as all evidence suggested, and Mr. Bingley simply did not have enough faith in his own judgment to decide for himself.

I must therefore conclude dear Jane that your loss of Mr. Bingley, who very possibly could have been a good match, was mostly because of the ill-bred manners of the Bennet family, and I count myself among the culprits. I must offer my most abject apologies, because perhaps Mr. Darcy could have overlooked the rest of the family if I had not been so abominably rude to him, and if we had not driven him away, Mr. Bingley would have had time to get to know your heart.

In the end, I am most chastened to know that even though Mrs. Bennet was probably the principle architect of his abandonment, I most assuredly was second. I am heartily ashamed of myself. I believe until today, I never truly knew myself.

So, when Mr. Bingley returns, he will either call on you or he will not. If he does not, then there is no more to be thought about, and things will be just as they are. If, however, he _does_ call, then you alone must decide whether to give him another chance.

Before you decide for or against him, which may or may not be required, I would ask you to take a few other things into consideration.

Lydia nearly destroyed the Bennet family, and Mr. Darcy saved us at considerable effort and expense. Mary has recently become betrothed to a man that is absolutely perfect for her, who happens to have as patron, the self‑same Mr. Darcy. How in the world could a rector from Kympton just _happen_ to meet a lady in Hertfordshire, four days ride away absent some guidance? Mr. Bingley very well may come back to make reparations for last year, and I can see no possible way it could have come about unless Mr. Darcy told him the truth, which Uncle Gardiner gave him in Lambton in it's completely unvarnished form. Everything centers around Mr. Darcy.

This has led me to reexamine all I knew before, and I have a more intellectually satisfying conclusion that fits all known facts. Mr. Darcy is a true and honorable man, who may have acted with supreme bad manners and disdain at one time, but he has recently acted the very best of men. He may once have esteemed me, but my family and I drove him from Hertfordshire, I am certain. Nothing that has happened since I was in Lambton last year can be faulted, and where there was previous fault, he seems to be making reparations well beyond what any sane man would do. I must therefore conclude that he is either the most honorable man we have ever met, or he esteems me, or both.

Jane, I must admit, though it frightens me to do so, that I believe he just might like me. It is entirely too much to hope for though with all that has happened between us, and the stain that is still on our family for him to act on it. Even he has his limits, and attaching himself to a family so closely attached to Wickham, or attaching himself to a woman who has abused him abominably at every opportunity for over a year is just too much.

So, I must conclude that he may well have esteemed me once, and must admit that I feel much more than is wise or prudent for him, but I cannot expect anything except that he may allow me to give him the thanks that is owed. Beyond that, I dare not hope, but I must own that I _do_ hope all the same. The man has always had a profound effect on me, and I very well believe it would take less than a feather's touch to push me into love with him; presuming I am not already there.

I go back to Derbyshire with Mary in a few weeks for her wedding. There is a chance Mr. Darcy will attend church while I am there with her, and I will give the man my thanks if it kills me. I will be in Derbyshire for more than a fortnight, and I will have my say, even if I must bend the rules a touch and call on Miss Darcy at Pemberley.

So, I hope that helps you with any decision you may need to make with respect to Mr. Bingley. I know forgiveness is in your nature and you will be inclined to give it; and I am not opposed to the scheme, but I would hope that you take steps to insure there is no more confusion and misunderstandings. And no matter what else you do, try not to expose to the poor man to Mrs. Bennet. If he calls on you, go to town and let him court you from Gracechurch Street.

Your beloved sister  
Lizzy

* * *

 **Kympton**

26 November 1812  
Kympton, Derbyshire

Dearest Jane,

Mary and I arrived safely, and her beau is absolutely wonderful. It is quite fortunate that she already has his affections secured, as he would be in some danger of falling into my sights if she had not. Her wedding is scheduled for Wednesday next, and I can hardly wait. Mrs. Ellery and I were quite dismayed to find that every single thing anybody could wish in a wedding has already been done by the ladies of the parish, but we will endeavor to get over it with moderately good grace.

I have been cursed by an unaccustomed bout of timidity and a general disinclination to cause the slightest disruption in Mary's wedding, so I have not taken the opportunity to learn anything of the Darcys except for what is generally known around the village. I know brother and sister are both at home now, but not very much more. Mr. Darcy has apparently been in and out several times in the last months, according to the local rumors, and since we know at least some of what that is all about, it is not surprising. I did not have the courage to ask Mary's beau about them.

Now, for the most surprising news. By complete coincidence, there is an assembly here in Kympton in two days' time, and I mean to attend. It is curious that today is exactly one year to the day after the ball at Netherfield, and I have decided to mark the occasion by purchasing a ticket to the assembly. It is a public assembly, much like the one where we first encountered the gentlemen, and I am hoping to dance a little bit. I have not danced a single time since Netherfield, so I hope I remember how.

I know full well I am unlikely to encounter either of the Darcys at the assembly, given Miss Darcy's shyness and the fact that she is not out; and his general disinclination toward dancing; but I am hoping that I will happen upon one of them before I leave Kympton. Of course, then I remember how Mr. Darcy left Lydia's wedding as if it were a locust infestation (not that far from the truth), I become nervous and believe they will avoid me as any sensible man would. For the moment, all I can say is I will attend an assembly and I will dance if asked. Beyond that, nobody can know, and I dare not hope.

I _am_ here with Mr. Ellery on business after all, so we have a long series of engagements for the next two days until the assembly, and I will just barely be done in time to dress. In honor of the occasion, I have brought along my old dress from the Netherfield ball, and am hoping the dance will end better than the previous one did.

Of course, I thought I would have to bully Mary into attending, but when it came down to it, she is more enamored with the idea of the dance than I am. Perhaps it has something to do with a certain gentleman who will also be attending.

Your loving sister  
Lizzy

* * *

 **Assembly**

28 November 1812  
Kympton, Derbyshire

Dearest Jane,

I can hardly contain my surprise at the events of this evening's assembly, and you can be in no doubt that Mary will send you her own impressions forthwith. It is full dark in the middle of the night here in Kympton, but I cannot rest until I have written it all out to you for the morning post.

As you well expect, I visited the assembly last evening. I was looking around and just getting my bearings, while I could see several gentlemen apparently trying to work their way up to securing an introduction, when I heard a voice behind me that I have both longed to hear and feared ever since my epiphany. What he said was so memorable, I feel I must quote it exactly.

 _"I must dance. I will not stand around in this stupid manner, and it would be a punishment to dance with any other lady than the most handsome woman I have ever beheld, Miss Elizabeth."_

I spun around in surprise at such a reversal of that gentleman's first words in my hearing, with heartfelt thanks for all that he had done on my lips, determined to get them out, but I was struck mute before I could utter a single word. Mr. Darcy was standing there dressed impeccably, handsomer than ever, and showing me an expression that even the most stubborn woman in England could not misinterpret. It had all the hope of a puppy the first time it opens its eyes to see its dear mother, combined with the adoration I see between Aunt and Uncle, and the fixedness of purpose of a bear tearing apart a tree for honey. I knew at that very moment my heart was well and thoroughly lost, although I suspect it has been for some time. As you know, when I was rethinking every interaction of the past year, I concluded that he either respected me and wanted me as a family friend; or that he was in love with me; or at least he had once been. His expression clearly and unambiguously showed me which case was true, and the thought I had only barely dared to even think was there to guide my heart.

I could not speak a single word, and Mr. Darcy is a man of few words at the best of times, but I do believe we were for the very first time in our entire rocky acquaintance in a state of absolute, complete and perfect understanding.

I could barely register Miss Darcy standing beside him, but I must own that I am surprised that I could see the gentleman at all, as Miss Darcy's smile was as bright as a dozen suns, and she jumped over to grab me in an embrace that I thought was likely to kill me. She apparently has also been appraised of both my blindness and my stubbornness, so wanted to leave me in no doubt as to her sentiments. Even with this inducement, I could not but help seeing the look on Mr. Darcy's face as he beheld the two of us embracing. His eyes were speaking a language that I was finally able to understand, and it was saying that all was right with the world.

No formal application for the dance was needed or desired. He simply held out his hand, Georgiana put my hand in his, just in case I thought of resisting, and we left to join the set. It was a sublimely beautiful dance, or at least I believe it was, as I can barely remember anything about the music, or the hall, or the other dancers. There was only him, and I am certain for him there was only me.

I was still nervous about what was to happen next, and then he said something so very memorable, that I am afraid I must quote exactly. His speech showed everything wonderful and unexpected, including his wry sense of humor.

 _"I am most vexed with you Elizabeth. On your last visit, both you and your esteemed aunt, steadfastly refused to suggest a single alteration for your chambers, so I am afraid you must accept them just as they are."_

Your astonished sister  
Lizzy

* * *

P.S. Of course, he did propose properly in the usual form of a question and an answer, and it is a truth universally acknowledged in Kympton that both were lovely; since both were performed in front of his sister and my sister and the entire assembly. I am of age, and not inclined to ask permission from anybody for anything, but I will beg for your blessing, as I already have Mary's. The banns will be read on Sunday, and we are to be married in one month by Mary's husband, here in Kympton… well, he will not be her husband for another two days, but why quibble.

P.P.S. The carriage in the drive is for you, and the man that handed this letter to you is the coachman. He brought a maid and a footman and Georgiana's companion, Mrs. Annesley, with him, so please bring Kitty with you when you come to attend my wedding. Plan to stay six weeks at least, but you need not bring too many dresses, as my betrothed is quite anxious to have his sisters be as happy as his wife. I will ask you to indulge him on this matter, regardless of your own sentiments, as he is the second most stubborn person in England. Naturally, it will be Tuesday morning right after breakfast now, so you must hurry and be out of the house before luncheon. Simply have Mr. Bennet sign the document attached for permission, unless of course he already has a very different document to sign with Mr. Bingley. Of course, Aunt and Uncle Gardiner will attend if their business will allow it, and since my betrothed's note makes copious reference to the miserable state of his trout stream, I believe we may just be indulged.

P.P.P.S. Also, if you can find it in your heart to forgive Colonel Fitzwilliam, I would be most appreciative. He is off to the continent for duty very soon, but he will be present at our wedding and is most anxious to meet the rest of the Bennet sisters. Once I _finally_ understood that he thought my betrothed had saved Mr. Bingley from a fortune hunter, I have forgotten all anger, and I can see why you liked him back in Rosings. He is my third favorite Northman.

* * *

 **Lieutenant**

5 September 1814  
Pemberley, Derbyshire

Dear Lydia,

I realize it has been two years since we last spoke at your wedding, and I am hoping this letter finds you well and that you are willing to read it instead of casting it in the fire. I must own to having been so angry it was quite impossible to even consider contacting you all this time. However, even my unreasonable temper has its limits and it is time I believe for us to get on.

I have heard, most unexpectedly from Colonel Fitzwilliam that your husband has been fighting in his regiment in Spain this last year. That is the first I have heard of either of you since your wedding, much to my chagrin. Colonel Fitzwilliam also says that he has been serving with distinction. Coming from the Colonel, that is praise indeed. In fact, they seem to have come to a truce as fighting men are occasionally wont to do in time of war. I would like to follow their example.

So my dear sister, I would like to make this simple. We have many things to say to one another, but they cannot be said in a letter. They will no doubt be difficult, hurtful and aggravating; but I hope reconciling as well.

I understand you are with the regiment still in Newcastle, and you have a son around one year old and another on the way. I should very much like to heal the breach between us, so this is what I will suggest; and my husband is in agreement with me.

Fitzwilliam and I would like you to come her and stay with us at Pemberley until your husband returns. I know the two of us may find the exercise vexing and difficult, but I would l like to make the effort. At the very least, come here to have your baby. We have an excellent midwife, and you can be assured you will be treated well, and your children will be treated the same as mine.

Please Lydia, let us put the past behind us. Come and make your home here, and all will be well. If you are in agreement, simply reply to this letter and I will come fetch you. I expect my next shall be born about a month after yours, and we shall make a merry pair on our journey back.

You need not fear your husband's reception when you come back. Fitzwilliam and I are both stubborn and implacable, and have decided to let the past go.

Still Your Sister,  
Elizabeth Darcy

 **General**

26 November 1815  
Pemberley, Derbyshire

Dearest Kitty,

I am so deliriously happy with your news that I can just scream, or maybe kiss my husband and my boys or dance around in joy and then repeat the whole process. We have all been anxiously awaiting the end of this war for so long, and after Waterloo we had some real hope it would finally be over. Now with Napoleon exiled to St. Helena, it is at long last finished and I cannot even begin to describe the joy I am feeling. I will even go so far as to refrain from chastising your betrothed about how long it took him to finally come to the point, because Fitzwilliam and I both well understand his reasoning. I thought he might have looked favorably on you as far back as my wedding, even though you were much too young at the time for his affections; but in a complete breach of habit he copied my husband's inscrutable ways and would not say a word.

Before he left for the Continent, Fitzwilliam talked to him about his intentions; and he steadfastly refused all entreaties. All he would say is that he would not shirk his duty by staying in England, and he refused to leave behind a widow or even a lady whose heart was engaged when there was every chance he would not come back. He is indeed a foolish man, but we all love our foolish men, do we not. I also believe he was concerned about the disparity in your ages, but since you are now the age I was when I wed, I think you both shall have no reason to repine. He truly is the best of men and I could not be happier.

We cannot wait for the both of you to arrive at Pemberley, and I cannot express how happy I am that you will be wed in the same chapel as I was; although with Mary's husband's occupation, I do not see how you had any other choice. Please hurry your steps back here as soon as you may. I understand it will take time for your intended to complete his military tasks, but I am so happy that he has finally considered his duty to King and Country complete and decided to settle down.

I know of his reluctance to talk of his time on the continent, so I shall consider it my duty to tell you things he may choose to omit. The most shocking thing is that our brother, Captain Wickham, has served the last three years with true distinction, and his Captain's rank is well earned. In fact, according to a private communication that my husband shared, he ended up fighting back to back with your general at Waterloo. That must have been a shock to both, but battle seems to have forged a bond between them. It shames me to think that back in the dark days of the year twelve I actually wrote in a letter to Jane and Mary that I wished he would be sent to the continent to be killed or tamed. On his last leave, I apologized to both him and Lydia profusely for that, but they just laughed at me. He seems to feel that the war was the making of him, and perhaps it is true. He seems a very different man than the cad that married Lydia, and we have all quite forgiven him.

My boys are doing quite well, and I am sure you know that they are thick as thieves with Lydia's two and Mary's two, since we brought Lydia to Pemberley; although with the younger three only a year old, little else can be expected. I have noticed a suspiciously large number of very small ponies in the stables, and Fitzwilliam has been surreptitiously eyeing all six of the boys, so I am not entirely certain our brother will be able to spirit them away when he does return. There is some chance the Captain will be sent to fight in the Canadas, and Lydia may even go with him; but that is to be determined. Either way, I believe we will find a way to keep Captain Wickham and Lydia close. We have long since forgiven anything and everything in the past, and we have all become quite close. I once swore I would never call him either brother or Mister, but I now do so without qualms.

I have two last items to broach with you. The first is that you well know that a good part of our income comes from our stake in Gardiner, Livingston, Ellery, Darcy and Fitzwilliam. What you may not know is that the 'Darcy' in that company's name is me, not my husband. I have been actively participating in the business since that first trip to Lambton all that time ago. I suspect you may have worked that out already. The part you probably do _not_ know is that the ' _Fitzwilliam'_ part of the name is your soon-to-be husband, not Uncle Matlock as has always been assumed. We voted him an equal share right after my wedding when he went back to Spain to finish his task. We all believed and still do that if he was risking life and limb to protect us and ours, it was the least we could do. My husband has been voting his shares all this time, and we are anxious for him to join the fray fully. His contacts in the King's Army will be useful, and his efforts to open the Continent back up to trade make this a very good business venture for us; so please do not think of it as charity. He has earned his share and far more, but I suspect you may have to bludgeon him into submission to get him to accept. He suffers from an excess of pride, just as we all do. If it comes down to it, you should point out to him that he is the third stubbornest person in England, and is being opposed by the first and second.

The last and most difficult thing is that I wish to ask your permission to allow our mother to attend your wedding. The abuse she heaped on you and I in particular is quite unforgivable, but I have finally found it in my heart to do so. It may be the most difficult thing I have ever done, since she did not have the Captain's war record to recommend her, and all that had happened is the passage of time and my becoming able to remember that she is our mother and I owe her for that.

If you have reached a similar conclusion, I shall invite her to Pemberley for the wedding, and I will do my best to reign in the worst of her behavior. If not, then I shall still invite her here, but after you have parted; which shall not be for at least two or three months I hope. You decide, and I shall take care of the particulars.

And so, my dear sister, I must close before I start dripping so many tears over the paper that it looks like one of Charles' missives. Speaking of Charles, he and Jane will either be here directly for your wedding, or they have decided to become Buddhists and emigrate to the Orient – either is possible based on my perusal of his letter. I am hoping I will be able to actually read Jane's letter when it follows to clarify.

Please hurry. We cannot wait to see you and your betrothed.

Your loving sister,  
Elizabeth Darcy

* * *

 **Epilogue**

26 November 1823  
Pemberley, Derbyshire

Dearest Jane,

Thank you so much for sending me the packet of my old letters from the year twelve. It was such a difficult year, but all our lives pivoted around it. Fitzwilliam and I shared the letters and were laughing so much the children came to check on us. I swear it was the most diversion we have had since Bennet invited the hounds to Kitty's wedding breakfast.

My favorite was the one from when I saw him at Gunthers and he gave me _'the most intense look of hatred I have ever seen'_. Can you believe I wrote that? He said, _"Was it like this?"_ and gave me the exact same look. This time I could not misinterpret it, as his eyes practically caught my dress on fire. What a silly goose I was back then. Maybe I tripped getting into the coach because my eyes were blinded by the smoke. It took us quite some time to get back to the rest of the letters, but since they are a decade old there was no rush. Today is exactly 10 years since the Netherfield ball, and they seem to have gone by in a trice.

Mama is doing well at the dower house, and I recently heard from Charlotte that all is well at Longbourn. I am very happy that I finally repaired the relationship with Mama, as she is now quite the favorite of all the grandchildren.

I find it extremely ironic, now that I can laugh at such things, that Mama set her stated goal in her life as having all five of her daughters well married, then proceeded to nearly destroy every chance of that happening. In the end though, more through luck than anything else, we all ended up marrying quite well and all five are happy. The world is certainly a strange place, and I think the goddess of fate must be off somewhere laughing her head off.

Your loving sister,  
Elizabeth Darcy

* * *

 _A/N: There you go. I hope you enjoyed my little bit of Pride and Paranoia. This should be a good antidote to my last Super-Lizzy story ;)_

 _The style was somewhat copied from Lady Susan, but not overly much… just the basic concept._

 _Telling a story in relentlessly First Person POV with an unreliable narrator and nearly 100% exposition was challenging, and I hope you enjoyed the results._

 _Please feel free to review or PM with your thoughts._

 _Wade_


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